To the Night
by Alma Gloriosa
Summary: HP/Twlight crossover. Ten years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry is captured while trying to expose the corrupt government. He escapes, planning to die in the process, but a group of vampires has other ideas. Harry/Carlisle
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This fic just came out of nowhere. I have two other, more developed ideas for HP/Twilight crossovers, but this is the one that's demanding to be written. Esme does not exist in this universe, but otherwise the Twilight canon is intact. The Harry Potter universe follows the same basic sequence as canon with small differences in the fate of certain characters and, obviously, a great difference beginning from the end of DH. "To the Night" is a working title. I'm not promising regular updates, but I'm certainly going to try. Standard disclaimers apply. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. If I had as much money as either of those women, trust me, I wouldn't be working at my crappy job.

To the Night, Chapter One

The woods were lovely and lush in the night. They had a different quality to them than the forests and mountains in which they'd hunted when living in Forks or even later, in upstate New York. The trees and plants were different species from those which had grown familiar and cast intriguing shadows across the leaf and pine needle-covered ground. Carlisle breathed in deeply, gathering all the scents from miles around. There was copious small prey about, nothing any of his family would bother with. There was a large herd of deer not too far off and the distinct scent of wildcat. He couldn't say for sure whether there were any bears in the area, but if there were, Emmett would certainly find them. While Carlisle would normally hunt deer and other grazing animals, he thought tonight he might go for more of a challenge and something a bit more satisfying. He wasn't tempted any more by human blood, not to any extent where he might actually slip, but he needed all the self-control and self-possession he could muster in order to make a good impression on his new colleagues. He couldn't risk his family; they had so much to live for and this was a fresh start for all of them.

"All right then," Carlisle said, surrounded by those he called his children – and grandchild. "We should all … do our thing." He nodded his head, the motion jerky for a vampire. "Meet up at home later."

Emmett and Rosalie were the first to run off and were almost out of sight when Jasper, resisting Alice's tugging on his arm to run along as well, stiffened immediately. Carlisle felt a tug of panic in his stomach that he knew did not belong to himself.

"Wait!" Jasper called. His voice was loud but constricted. "There's blood. Human blood."

By the time he had finished speaking, Carlisle smelled it as well, and so did every other member of the family.

"What the hell?" Renesmee uttered, earning her a sharp look from the girl who could have nearly been her twin sister but was actually her mother.

"Carlisle, what's going on?" Bella spoke up. "Where did it come from? I swear it wasn't there a minute ago!"

"It definitely wasn't," Emmett said, returning to the group with Rosalie at a controlled pace. "But holy God, it's strong!"

"I don't know where it came from, Bella," Carlisle answered. But oh, it was such a beautiful scent. It seemed to be far off still but it wafted into Carlisle's senses as though the bleeding human was lying at his feet. "I don't … this doesn't make any sense."

Alice piped up then. "No, it doesn't." She stepped forward towards Carlisle, close enough to grip his hand. "You have to go on and find the source of it. I have to take Jasper home for now."

Carlisle studied her carefully, then glanced over at Edward. The young man was focused on his sister, the corners of his mouth turned down. "Alice, what have you seen?" Carlisle demanded.

The pixie girl merely shook her head. "It's very confusing. I can't … I can only say one thing. You have to make this decision with your heart and not your head."

Alice shook her head again, this time as though trying to clear it. "Jasper and I have to go home now. We'll see you later."

With that, she moved back to Jasper and in the blink of an eye the two started running for home. The feeling of panic and nervousness that had originated with Jasper eased up and was replaced by a similar feeling that was Carlisle's own.

"Is anyone else a little bit … frightened now?" Bella asked into the silence. "The last time Alice and Jasper left cryptically …"

"I hardly think this is the same thing, love," Edward said softly.

"What do you suppose it's from? D'you think someone could have gotten attacked by something?"

Carlisle was silent for a moment, considering Emmett's words. "It's the only logical explanation," he conceded. "But we should have noticed the scent before, even without blood. We're wasting time, though. I have to see if I can help."

"You don't think there's any danger? For us, I mean?" Rosalie asked.

"I think if there's something in this forest that's dangerous for _us_, then I'd rather know what it is than not," Carlisle replied, and with that, took off at top speed.

He could hear the others following behind as he sped through the dense maze of trees and bushes, following the smell that called to him through the air. No doubt Edward should be catching up with him, surpassing him, but he was probably tempering his pace to stay with Bella and Renesmee. Carlisle continued to lead the pack until, quite suddenly, he had reached his destination, stopping at the edge of a tiny clearing in which lay an injured, mangled body.

Carlisle rushed forward and was kneeling down beside the prone figure just at the rest of his family arrived at the clearing. He began examining it for injuries as the others spoke behind him.

"Holy shit," he heard Rosalie say.

"Could an animal have _done_ that?" Renesmee asked.

"In the five minutes or so since we originally smelled it?" Rose asked. "Doubtful."

"And if so, where'd the _animal_ go to so quickly?" Emmett asked. "I don't smell anything but grazers around for quite a distance."

Carlisle was listening to their commentary even as he catalogued the broken bones and the deep lacerations, the copious amounts of blood that leaked from both abdomen and head. And then he stopped.

"This definitely wasn't an animal attack," he said slowly. "He's got burns, severe ones."

Everyone began talking at once. _Burns_? In the middle of the woods, along with all his other injuries? It just didn't make sense. The scent of blood had appeared so suddenly, it was as if the man had just appeared in the clearing out of thin air. And that was impossible, but so was the human's very presence. The only one not joining into the conversation was Edward.

Carlisle focused on him. "Edward. You're being awfully quiet."

Edward didn't reply right away but the others quieted down. "Can you help him, Carlisle?" There was something odd in the way Edward spoke.

"Even if I could get him to a hospital within the next ten minutes or so – before he bleeds to death – it's unlikely that he'd be treated quickly enough …"

He broke off, not voicing the rest of his thoughts but knowing that Edward could sense them.

"You're going to want to get the venom into his bloodstream quickly. It needs to circulate before his heart stops." Edward spoke softly but every one of the vampires knew exactly what he was saying.

Carlisle didn't even try to deny that these were the thoughts that had been running through his head. But at the same time, he didn't know if he could do it. This wasn't the same as it had been in the past. He didn't know anything about the human lying before him, about his past or his situation, as he'd known about Edward and Rosalie before turning them, and it certainly wasn't the same as it had been for Edward when he turned Bella. The only ones who might understand were Rosalie and Emmett.

"Rose?" he began.

Comprehension sparked in her eyes. "Is it like it was for me with Emmett?" she asked. "He's yours, isn't he?"

"He isn't _mine_," Carlisle protested.

"He will be if you turn him into one of us," Rose explained.

"No," Carlisle denied. "He'll have a choice, just as I would give anyone. Just as I gave Edward, just as I gave you. If …"

He might live forever, but Carlisle had only a few minutes left in which to make the decision of whether this broken man would become one of them. It was true that the human's blood drew him in as though Carlisle was the prey and not the other way around, but he wasn't truly tempted, no more than he'd been in at least a century. Still, he could desire the scent without ever tasting it. If Edward had felt even a fraction of this when he'd encountered Bella, then Carlisle couldn't imagine the amount strength Edward must possess.

No one else spoke. Even Renesmee was quiet, chatterbox that she normally was; she seemed to grasp the depth of the situation. Carlisle felt like roaring into the night. He wished someone else could tell him what to do.

"You've always thought I was stronger than you," Edward said, breaking the silence that had settled over them. "But I'm not. His scent, for you, is stronger than Bella's ever was for me, and here you are surrounded by pools of it and you have the time and the sense of mind to consider whether turning him is the right thing to do?"

"Edward …"

"Alice told you that you have a choice and that you have to make it with your heart," Edward continued. "I'm telling you that there is no choice. Get the venom into him now, before it's too late."

Carlisle stared into the dark amber eyes that met his. He knew that Edward could hear all of the doubts, all of the fears, and all of the certainty. In many ways, Edward knew him better than anyone; he'd been Carlisle's first companion. And he was telling Carlisle the exact thing that Carlisle had wanted so badly to hear. This was what Alice had meant.

He turned back to the human. The body was so far beyond repair that Carlisle wouldn't have been able to recognize him by sight if he were to see him whole. He wouldn't know what color his eyes were. Morbidly, he reached up, pulled back one uninjured eyelid. A dazzlingly bright green iris shone up at him in the moonlight; it was a pity that color would be overcome by the varying eyes of a vampire, but Carlisle felt better for knowing.

He then picked up the young man's left hand; it was one of the only uninjured parts of his body, the skin creamy white and soft in a way it would never again be once Carlisle had acted. Bringing the wrist to his mouth, Carlisle sank his teeth into it, instinctually finding the vein and injecting his poison into it without sucking up any of the blood; Carlisle needed every bit of that blood to circulate the venom.

Suddenly, it seemed imperative that Carlisle do everything he possibly could to make sure that his venom had permeated every inch of the body before him. Leaning over he sank his teeth again, this time into the man's neck, releasing even more venom, then checked his pulse. The heart was still beating but too quickly and weakly. He turned the man onto his back from his previously curled position and began pumping on his chest with hard strokes, forcing the heart to beat, forcing blood and poison everywhere. He kept this up, pumping, pumping; he could have kept it up for hours but it was only scant moments before an odd moaning noise seemed to reverberate in the otherwise silent clearing. Before heat began to radiate from the body.

Carlisle leaned back onto his heels and let out a breath unnecessarily. The venom was beginning to take effect, but only just. It would be days yet before every injury had been burned away, leaving only a flawless mold of the living flesh that had once been.

"We should bring him home, before the pain really sets in," Carlisle said, but he did not otherwise move. The reality of the situation was starting to set in. Perhaps everything would be different when this man awoke as a vampire, but already Carlisle couldn't picture a future without him in it. If the newborn vampire chose to leave, Carlisle imagined he might truly spend the rest of eternity alone.

His thoughts were broken by footsteps coming toward him. "Do you need –" Emmett asked softly.

"No," Carlisle replied. "Sorry."

Faster than a human could have blinked, he had scooped the body into his arms and taken off back through the woods towards home. The others followed him, then surrounded him protectively. He amended his previous thoughts in his mind. He wouldn't be _alone_ for eternity; he just wasn't entirely certain that his family could be enough to compensate for the loss of his mate.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Burning, burning, burning.

The pain was all-encompassing. Not the tiniest part of Harry's body was spared from the fire. It was an odd sensation of burning, though, not like being hit with a curse or reaching too close to a flame. Harry felt like he was burning from the inside out.

Was this dying? He couldn't be sure. He had died once before and it hadn't hurt at all. One moment he'd been alive, and the next he'd woken in King's Cross station and he hadn't even realized he was dead at first. But then, he'd been hit with an Avada Kedavra that time. This time he'd taken more curses than any one person, even a wizard, even the Boy Who Lived, could survive.

Pain, pain, pain.

There were figures hovering over him, people. He didn't think he was in the woods anymore. Had they managed to find him? Had they brought him back to the manor? The pain, the fire … was it all some new and terrible torture they had not yet introduced him to? Why couldn't they just let him die? He'd been fighting for so long that all he wanted to do was die. He hoped he was dying. He hoped that this was just a painful death.

He caught a glimpse of blonde hair, then a glimpse of black. He couldn't focus on anything. He was existing in a different reality, one in which pain was the only component, and the others were on some other plane. Perhaps they were angels, trying to coax him through, trying to end his suffering. He couldn't let himself think that he'd been found, that it was Malfoy speaking garbled words, but he couldn't be sure. It was like trying to look through a frosted window.

He felt his magic rising up from within. At first he thought it was fighting the pain, whatever might be causing it, in one last effort to free him from its clutches. But that didn't seem right either. It was getting bigger and bigger and everything around him became swirling light. His magic was more intense that he could ever remember it being; his magic was his entire existence.

This had to be death, being swallowed by pure power. He'd finally made it. He let the darkness take him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, I am absolutely floored by the response to this story! I didn't realize so many people would be interested in Harry/Carlisle. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read the first chapter and especially to those who reviewed. I hope none of you are offended that I have not replied to reviews, but I think I'm correct in assuming that you'd rather I spend that time actually working on the story. I meant to get you this chapter last night but got swept up in yesterday's events.

I actually wrote most of this chapter before I got around to starting chapter one; it literally just all came pouring out at once and inspired the story. I didn't really have a plot before this. I know it may seem to be backtracking a little bit at first, but it gives a little bit of background about what Harry's been up against, and I promise the plot will start to move on from here. Standard disclaimers once again apply; I don't own any of it and unfortunately I am not making any money from it. Without further ado ...

To the Night, Chapter Two

_So this is what the afterlife feels like._

It certainly felt different. Harry felt good. Better than good, even, better than he could ever remember feeling physically. He felt … perfect, in stark contrast to the remembered hours of agony. How long had he spent dying, before his suffering was finally over? It had felt like days or weeks, but it couldn't have been. Even if someone had found him (had they found him?) he wouldn't have held on for that long in that pain. He would have either been healed or he would have died, being beyond rescue. Certainly he should have been beyond saving. He'd stayed as long as he could to catch as many curses as possible; he'd left at the last moment to avoid being caught and healed. It was the one thing they wouldn't have expected, the one thing they wouldn't have predicted: that he would go through the trouble of escaping with death as his only goal.

Still, he didn't open his eyes. He was preparing himself, he supposed. So many years he'd spent hanging onto whatever life he could, as though being the child of one prophecy would make him the hero in another. He'd thought of death more than was healthy, but it seemed cheap and cowardly, and he didn't like to think of himself as either of those things. He'd fought in the resistance, fought even when he was convinced that he alone _was_ the resistance. Then, he'd been captured, and everything had changed.

His one advantage during his years as a rebel, the one reason he'd managed to stay alive and to continue to fight when his compatriots dropped one by one, was that he could avoid detection. The enemy could not kill him or take him prisoner if they couldn't catch him. The lessons, given to him by Snape at Dumbledore's request so many years ago now, had taught him, among Occlumency and the defensive and offensive spells, the art of deception and foolproof ways to hide himself. Of course, he hadn't been very good at it, any of it, back then, but he'd practiced, and then Snape had killed Dumbledore and Harry had practiced even more, practiced until he could do everything Snape had taught him in his sleep, until he could do it all without a wand, until he could do it perfectly.

In retrospect, Snape probably cursed himself a thousand times over for having taught Harry all he did. It wasn't like he could have refused Dumbledore, not if he wanted to retain his cover as a spy, and of course he'd had to do that. Otherwise, Dumbledore might have remained untouchable, and then no one knew what might have happened. But Snape _had_ given him the tools he needed and had fled before ever realizing just how well Harry could use them. It didn't matter one bit if Snape knew _how_ Harry was hiding himself because he still didn't have a chance of finding him.

In fact, Harry knew that, if he'd wanted to, he could have disappeared forever. All he had to do was integrate himself into the muggle world. Come up with a new identity. If he didn't use magic, they couldn't follow him that way. And as long as he wasn't causing trouble, he wasn't sure they'd bother to look for him; maybe they'd even just assume he was dead. It wasn't as though there was any love lost between them and Harry, but he wasn't important to them as an individual as he'd been to Voldemort. Their continued survival did not depend upon his death. They already had their positions, their power. As part of the pitiful resistance, Harry had no way of altering that. So they believed; so Harry could not allow himself to believe. He was merely a pest to them, that was all. He was the mouse who was stupid enough to sneak into the house, when if he'd only stayed outside, minding his own business, no one would have taken note of his existence.

For ten years since the defeat of Voldemort, Harry had been living as a mouse, sneaking into a house and then back out before he could be caught or crushed to death in a trap, and leaving in his wake small, nearly meaningless piles of destruction. For ten years he had survived as "Undesirable Number One," though the Ministry didn't seem to put much effort behind finding and imprisoning those on the list anymore, if there even was anyone besides Harry left. Any who did remain had to stay too far in hiding to do much damage. Harry knew this firsthand. No, they'd long since turned their attentions to other matters, such as the restructuring of the British wizarding world.

They'd imposed new taxes surreptitiously so that half-bloods were the only ones paying them. The book at Hogwarts that recorded the names of all magical children had been seized by the Ministry and put to use. Now, all muggleborns were removed from their families at birth and placed in a special "group home." They were not allowed to attend Hogwarts but were instead taught a modified curriculum, all within the home. They were only allowed to read books from an approved list that doubled as the library inventory. Upon reaching the age of majority, they were sent to do grunt work in various places of employment: orderlies at St. Mungo's, janitors and assistants at the Ministry, clerks at the shops on Diagon Alley. They were forbidden to take positions that would offer them any sort of power or knowledge beyond what was deemed acceptable for a Mudblood.

Furthermore, Harry had heard rumors that Hogwarts itself had become segregated, even without muggleborn students in attendance. Half bloods were still allowed to attend but had separate classes and fewer privileges than pure bloods. They were not allowed to hold positions such as prefect or Quidditch captain, but they were allowed to play based upon exceptionality.

Even more disturbing was the new that any blood traitors or other muggle sympathizers had been sent to "rehabilitation centers." Harry hadn't caught wind of this one at all until he'd met Cassius Flint, the younger brother of Marcus Flint who had been sorted into Gryffindor during Harry's absent seventh year. After five full years, he had managed to convince his "therapists" in the voracity of his belief in pureblood supremacy and had been released to his family. He'd spent the next year with private tutors preparing for the NEWTs and skulking around Diagon Alley whenever he got the chance, looking for a way into the resistance if it did, in fact, exist. It was the only time Harry had been grateful that the Weasley family members were all dead within a year after Voldemort's downfall. They would have been prime candidates for rehabilitation. Not that it would have worked. If Cassius Flint, who had everything to lose by not cooperating, could resist, then the Weasleys could have as well.

Yes, in those ten years since the supposed "final battle" Harry had seen things he never could have imagined, even as a wizard. He had heard things that his conscience would not allow him to ignore. Sure, he could live a life as a muggle, but what would that mean? How could he ever have felt normal, felt like one of them? As a student at Hogwarts, as the Boy Who Lived, all Harry had wanted was to disappear and be ordinary. By the time the opportunity arose, it was the last thing he could possible wish for. The idea of a life without magic, without the Weasleys and Hermione and Sirius and Remus, it was unimaginable. The only thing he could possibly do, the only choice he had, was to fight until either he won, or it killed him.

There were so, so many times when he wished it had killed him already, times when he thought he'd starve to death, times when he'd been sure they were about to catch him, times when he missed his friends so much that he thought his heart would crack under the weight of the pain. Times when he thought that his back would break and his soul would be crushed under the weight of all the burdens that he alone was forced to shoulder. He was Atlas, holding up a world where everything that mattered was dead. And finally, _finally_, so was he.

Who would be there waiting for him, he wondered. Surely Ron and Hermione would be there. Sirius. His parents? Would he finally be reunited with his parents at long last? He wondered what being dead was like. Clearly, it wasn't physically painful. That part was over. But what would it be like? Would he need to sleep, eat? Would he be able to spend days in leisure, doing the things he'd enjoyed in life? Would his afterlife consist of a giant Quidditch pitch and a quiet, softly lit library with armchairs so large they swallowed you up? Or was it about watching the life that remained? As much as he'd always hoped that his parents and, later, Sirius were looking down upon him, were witnessing his actions when no one else cared to, he hoped this wasn't true. He did not want to watch a world like the one he'd left, a world he could not save. He did not want to see the results of his failures. He only wanted, for the first time in his existence, to be able to rest.

He could sense the movement around him now. Did they know he had woken, that he was preparing himself, as best as he knew how, for the afterlife? For seeing them again? Preparing himself so that he would not come completely undone? He took a long, slow breath, thinking that it felt odd to pull air into his lungs. What would they say to him? Would they welcome him? Would they wish he hadn't done it? None of it mattered. He opened his eyes.

He was lying flat, clothed but uncovered. An ethereal girl with dark, spiky hair studied him from her perch beside the bed. A blond boy sat next to her, looking at him as if he was some sort of odd specimen. Farther back, near the doorway to the unfamiliar room they were in, stood two other young men, one brawny with short, dark hair and the other lean and lithe with bronze hair so messy it could have belonged to a Potter. This wasn't right. Where were Ron and Hermione? Where were his parents? Sirius?

Harry sat up, then stood, rising on the opposite side of the bed from the boy and girl. His body felt odd, lighter and quicker than it ever had in life. More graceful. Was this part of death as well? Did you take on some perfect, idealized form of yourself? All four of the teenagers were staring at him, but none of them spoke. Harry stared back, studying each one in turn. They were all odd and unexplainably beautiful, even the boys.

"I don't understand what's going on," Harry spoke finally. At the very least, he'd expected Dumbledore to be waiting for him, after the experience at King's Cross. "I don't know who any of you are."

Desperation must have crept into his voice because the girl stood, her motion inhumanly fluid. "It's all right. Just stay calm. I'm Alice." She placed a hand on the shoulder of the boy who was still sitting. "This is Jasper. That's Emmett and Edward. Emmett's the bigger one."

Harry focused on them and they both nodded in his direction. Thought floated across his mind. It occurred to him that Emmett and Edward were not merely standing by the door but were guarding it. For what purpose?

He looked back at Alice. "But who _are_ you?" he asked. "I don't know any of you. I thought there'd be people I knew … waiting …"

"Waiting?" Alice asked.

She didn't understand, but neither did Harry. "I was dying–"

He hadn't finished speaking when it hit him. It was floating gently in the air, peacefully, aimlessly, but it rammed into him like a bludger to the stomach. He had never smelled anything so delicious, so tempting, in his entire life. His sense converged; his body tensed. His physical side readied itself to move, to run, to act. His mental self screamed at him to stop. He checked his Occlumency shields involuntarily; the inner ones, those which remained up even when he wasn't thinking about them, were solidly intact. In the last second before he lost all rationality, he slammed up the outer ones as well.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he slowly calmed from the onslaught of guttural instinct, trying not to completely lose his grip on reality. He was only vaguely aware of the two boys near the door running towards him, only vaguely aware that they moved with impossible speed. That scent was still hanging in the air, teasing him, torturing him. He had never been so hungry, so _thirsty_. But he could resist it because it was wrong, wasn't it? Why did it feel so wrong? He couldn't think.

There were strong hands on his arms, he realized. He tried to quash the panic as he pulled away, stumbled backwards. They were all staring at him, waiting. "Calm down," they chanted. "Look at me," the softest one commanded. He felt a wave of primitive, natural magic wash towards him and batted it away without blinking an eye. Why did he feel like a dangerous animal? Like he might lose control at any moment? He was not even breathing heavily. His heart was not hammering in his chest.

Thoughts and memories flooded his head, coming and going too quickly for comprehension. Occlumency shields were no good within his own mind. He tried to concentrate. The smell that had assaulted him. The reaction it had caused … No. Their grace, their speed, their perfect beauty. No. He looked at them, looked into their eyes. All were the exact same amber color, glinting with gold.

"No," he said. He looked at Alice; he wasn't sure why. "No! Why would you do this? How could you -?"

"It's going to be fine," Alice told him. "Please try not to get upset."

Jasper, standing next to Alice, looked both surprised and confused. "We'll explain everything to you."

"No," Harry repeated, unsure of what he was protesting: that he would stay calm and listen to what they had to say, or the possibility that his assumption was right. "I need to see a mirror."

Alice nodded, understanding. "Come with me."

She turned and started walking away. Harry followed. He was flanked by Emmett and Edward, though neither made another attempt to touch him, for which he was grateful. They left the room they were in and entered a large bathroom. The others stopped and Harry paused as well before stepping up to the sink and raising his eyes to the mirror hanging above it.

He reflection was exactly as he had feared. He was Harry and not-Harry. His skin, never dark to begin with, was now the off-white shade of porcelain. His features looked like they been chiseled from marble, as though an artist had decided to sculpt a replica of him, making him perfect and hard in the process. His hair, as messy as before, was shinier and, if anything, darker than before. Then there were his eyes, no longer the same shining green of his mother's; they had taken that last piece of her. Now his eyes were deep orbs, dark as an abyss.

His beauty was unerring and sinister. It was dark. He raised a hand from his side and looked down at it. It was the same as before, if more perfect. It was not shaking, not even a little, but he was absolutely terrified inside. He raised it up then and pressed two fingers against his neck. Nothing. Nothing but cold, hard skin, smooth and flawless. No heartbeat. He was not alive, but he was not dead either. He was undead.

He did not feel the magic swirling up inside until it was nearly at the surface. It felt even more raw and powerful as it responded to his distress. Knowing what his magic could do when it was allowed to act unchecked and uncontrolled, Harry quickly tamped down on it, pulling it back, but not before a small amount escaped. He was still restoring an equilibrium to his magic when he heard the mirror breaking. Shards of glass rained over him in a gentle shower. It did not hurt at all. Harry took a step backwards, glass crunching beneath his bare feet. He felt frozen.

"Holy shit!" he heard one of the boys say.

"Alice, go get Carlisle. Get him now!" a second one commanded.

He listened to the patter of Alice's feet as she left the room, bounded down what must have been a flight of stairs. A door slammed shut. He could hear her outside of the house, running away from it. Still, Harry did not move.

"D'you think we should get Bella?" the first boy asked into the silence.

"What for?" the second one asked.

"Well, her abilities … she might be able to shield us, if something happens."

"I'm not putting Bella into danger until I know it's necessary," the second boy insisted. _Who is Bella?_ Harry wondered. "Can't you do something, Jasper?"

"You think I haven't tried?" a third voice, Jasper apparently, asked. "Nothing. No effect whatsoever. Why don't _you_ do something? What exactly is going through his head right now?"

Harry did not see Edward's wince, but he could feel the tension in the question. "I don't know," the second boy said tightly. "I can't get anything. He's as blank as Bella."

"I just hope Carlisle gets here soon," Jasper said. "I think he might be going into shock."

"Can vampires go into shock?" Emmett asked.

Harry looked up sharply at this. It shouldn't affect him so much; it wasn't as though he hadn't already figured it out, but he hadn't said the word. He hadn't even dared to think it, and until that moment, none of them had said it either. It shocked and disgusted him, but it also brought him back to reality. Vampire. He was a vampire.

He stumbled backwards, colliding with the wall behind him and involuntarily slid down it, knees bent in towards his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, though there was no comfort to be had.

The largest vampire took a step towards him. Was it Emmett or Edward? He couldn't remember. Harry looked at him closely. He looked so young; forever eighteen. Harry would be forever twenty-eight, and he would always be younger, and smaller, than the burly figure in front of him.

He caught Harry's eyes. "Whoa. Hey there. It's going to be all right."

Harry looked away. It wasn't going to be all right. How could it possibly be all right? How could anything possibly be all right ever again? He'd thought ten years felt like an eternity; what would an actual eternity feel like?

He'd thought he was a monster before, the way he killed so easily and ruthlessly, but what did that make him now? And what about these monsters that surrounded him now? They were so damned _nice_, speaking to him calmly, telling him things would be all right. It only made him hate them more.

His magic became agitated. It had never been so quick to rise before or so strong. He was losing himself in it again. A breeze blew through the room, though the only window was shut tightly. Harry could hear the shattered glass skimming along the tiled floor, could hear voices talking to him, shouting even, but he could not make out their words.

And then, abruptly, some unknown force pushed his magic back. All of a sudden, he felt disconcertingly calm. He was compelled to look up from his knees, to look towards the door, not knowing why or what he would find there.

Standing in the doorway next to the little one named Alice was a tall blonde. His face was every bit as pale and beautiful as all the others' with a long, thin nose, dimpled chin, and deep-set amber eyes marred only by the same faintly dark crescents that were now under Harry's. In some ways – the lightness of his hair and skin, the sharpness of his features – he resembled a Malfoy. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Harry could not tear his eyes away.

_~CE~_

Hope you enjoyed it. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow, I want to sincerely everyone who reviewed my last chapter, as well as everyone who took the time to read! I do apologize for the timing of this chapter. I finished the draft of this late Thursday night and meant to have it up on Friday afternoon before I went away for the weekend, but ended up working late and having no time to even read it over. But I'm back now and it's as good as it's going to get for the moment.

Also, I noticed this come up in the reviews a few times so I just wanted to reiterate: Esme does not exist in this story. She never existed in this universe of my creation; or, rather, she never existed as a Cullen or a vampire. Just imagine that everything occurred the same except without Esme in the picture (in which case I suppose that "Esme's Island" where Edward and Bella honeymooned is not called that, though it does still exist) and Carlisle has never had a mate as all of his children now do. That being said, standard disclaimers apply. I don't own any of it and I'm not making any money.

To the Night, Chapter Three

The blond-haired vampire took a step towards Harry, who realized that the others had backed away from him and were now standing in the farthest corners of the bathroom. He tracked the blonde's movement as he walked slowly into the room and crouched down a few feet away from Harry. With any one else Harry might have protested, but he was intrigued by him; or perhaps intrigued was not strong enough a word.

"My name is Carlisle," the vampire said softly.

Harry just stared at him, not understanding why he couldn't form any words. He stared into Carlisle's eyes, wondering what he would see if he pushed.

"What is your name?" Carlisle asked when it became obvious that their new companion wasn't going to reply of his own accord.

"Harry," Harry told him. His voice sounded jarringly loud between his heightened sense of hearing and the echoing quality of the bathroom. "Harry Potter."

"It's nice to meet you, Harry."

Harry almost replied in kind, but something stopped him. He remembered. He was angry. They had turned him into something he'd never wanted to be, and this Carlisle seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be their leader.

"Are you the one who did it, then?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?" Carlisle seemed confused.

"You're the one who turned me? Who made me into this?" His voice would have been harder but he couldn't seem to stop it from softening when he looked at Carlisle. He didn't want to feel tenderness to the one who had done this to him.

"Yes. I am," Carlisle answered truthfully. He paused. "You were dying. You would have died."

_Do you think I don't know that?_ Harry wanted to yell. Instead, he said nothing.

He didn't know what to say. As little sense as it made, Harry was starting to think that this coven had actually had only good intentions for turning him. The stories he'd heard of vampires, not to mention the few vicious ones he'd been unlucky enough to meet before now, had been of dark creatures that only spared their victims in exchange for newborn servants who, despite superior strength and speed, were easily controlled by means of their insatiable thirst. Yet the main impression he got from this group was that they were … kind. Their words to him had been gentle. They had not attacked him even when they must have felt threatened by his magical outburst; they probably hadn't even known what it was.

_And their eyes were all amber_. He had, of course, noted it before, and that it was not the ordinary red of most vampires. He supposed that on some level, he had even realized what it meant, but had been unable to fit the pieces together on a conscious level. Now he fully understood the implications. They did not feed on humans, not a single one of them. How rare was that? So rare that even Remus hadn't been sure it was more than a rumor. But it must be true. They managed to drink only of animals, and controlled their thirst for humans.

Oh, the thirst. Thinking of thirst made it suddenly hit Harry in another strong wave. His mouth became wet with a liquid rather unlike human saliva. He felt control slipping and checked his shields.

Merlin! How was he supposed to deal with this? He couldn't seem to find any sort of equilibrium. If it wasn't his magic rearing up, threatening to destroy them all, then it was thirst, and if not that then the anger. And then Carlisle had entered and that was more confusing than anything.

"Harry?" Carlisle interrupted his internal struggle.

Harry focused again. "Who are you?" he whispered.

Carlisle's eyebrows furrowed. He glanced up at Alice, but she remained impassive. "I'm Carlisle Cullen," he said slowly. "I–"

"No," Harry stopped him. He hadn't meant that. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd meant and he realized he didn't know how to ask Carlisle what he really wanted to know, so he settled for something else entirely. "I mean, who are all of you? A group of five vampires who don't prey on humans? It's unheard of."

The vampire's eyes widened in shock. "Seven, actually. Seven and a half. You really are a mystery, aren't you, Harry Potter?" he asked with as much amusement in his voice as surprise.

He smiled at Harry, then, and it was a perfect smile and Harry did not want to look away, even as he did. He was hardly aware of Carlisle reaching a hand towards him until he felt it rest upon his knee. He startled violently at the touch, scooting across the smooth bathroom floor and away from Carlisle.

"Don't touch me!" Harry yelled, unable to stop himself.

Carlisle looked nearly as startled as Harry did. He reared back and held the offending hand in the air as though surrendering.

"I won't!" he replied quickly to Harry's order. Then, more softly, "I won't touch you."

Harry nodded in response. He was now a few feet further from anyone than he'd been and he already felt less tense. He pulled in a deep breath, more out of habit than anything, and the vague scents that hung in the air teased yet again. He forced himself to focus, to remain in control, but Carlisle seemed to sense his struggle.

"Of course you must be starving," he said. "You were meant to go hunting right away. Your reaction was … unexpected, to say the least."

Harry looked over at him curiously. Perhaps things would be easier than this if he got _some_ kind of blood into him. "What exactly do you hunt?" he asked suspiciously.

"Animals. Whatever we can find," Carlisle answered. "Carnivores are closer to human blood than grazers. I usually hunt deer of some sort, but Emmett likes bears and Edward prefers wildcats when we can find them."

Harry considered this, wondering why some of them preferred different types of animals to others. Was it as simple as if they'd been humans who preferred various kinds of foods, or was it something more complicated than that? He wondered what he would prefer.

"Will you come with me?" Carlisle asked him. "It will help."

"I'll come," Harry agreed with a jerky nod.

Both vampires were still for a long moment; Carlisle looked as though he might say something more. But in the end, he simply pressed his lips together and stood, Harry following suit.

It was disconcerting to him, the way his body moved so easily now. As a wizard, he'd always thought of himself as particularly quick. He hadn't been the youngest Quidditch player in a century – and Seeker at that – for nothing. He had always been impulsive to an extent, his actions instinctual to the point where his body would respond to an outside stimulus before his mind could catch up.

Now, though, he saw how erroneous that line of thought had been. Compared to what he was now, the grace, the speed … there _was_ no comparison. He had spent every moment of his life pathetic and infirm, never dreaming of the glorious creature he might become. How could he ever have thought differently? How could he ever have imagined defeating a vampire? He now imagined that he'd been lucky to escape one. Surely he was as close to invincible as one could become.

He followed Carlisle out of the bathroom, down the flight of stairs he'd heard Alice take earlier, and through the front door more rapidly than he could comprehend. The outside air was warm around him and before he knew it he was running swiftly alongside the blond stranger who was still somehow familiar. He breathed in deeply even though he knew he needn't. Faint human scents reached him, but he focused inward, hiding behind his shields and marveling at his speed. He knew he had never flown this fast in his life; certainly, if he had, he would not have been able to so easily dart around the trees and bushes that occasionally appeared in his path.

He could run forever; he almost _wanted_ to run forever. It seemed too soon when Carlisle broke the pattern of their footsteps with words.

"We're almost at a good spot," he informed Harry. "We have to make sure we're quite clear of any humans before you even think about feeding. If you happened to smell anyone appealing while you were in that frame of mind … well, it could be disastrous."

"You mean I might lose control, right? Kill a human?" Harry asked, and Carlisle nodded. Harry wondered what Carlisle would think when he learned how many people Harry had already killed in his twenty-eight years.

"But we won't let that happen," Carlisle assured him. "That's why Edward, Emmett and Alice are along. To stop you, if necessary."

Harry wondered if this should bother him, but it didn't. He did not particularly wish to harm some random person who deserved death much less than he. Besides, the thought of them attempting to restrain him was not pleasant; even now he could feel the torrid waves of magic that rippled inside, searching for a way to escape. Anything it interpreted as an attack would probably put it beyond his control, and that frightened him. He wanted to deal with his magic later, when he was feeling more balanced.

When he never replied to Carlisle's information, the other vampire spoke again. "You realize that when we're done here, when you're less hungry, I'm going to have questions."

Harry didn't like the way he said it, as though Harry was purposely trying to withhold information or mislead him. _Carlisle_ had been the one to turn him, to continue his existence and bring him into his home. Harry might be an enigma to him, but the things he didn't yet know about his new companions could be just as shocking. That was the point; neither of them knew. Yet he couldn't bring himself to give into the ire because he simultaneously felt _gleeful_. He was being pulled in two different directions and it bothered him. He had never done well with contradictions.

"I'm going to want explanations," Carlisle continued, mistaking Harry's momentary silence for defiance.

"As I am, for the questions I have," Harry replied.

Carlisle began to slow soon after and then came to a complete stop. Harry halted nearby, perhaps fifty meters off.

"What do you smell?" he asked Harry. He spoke in an even, everyday voice, as though they were standing right next to each other.

Harry again breathed in deeply through his nose. There were so many scents hanging in the air that at first he could not decipher them. He kept inhaling, however, and slowly the smells began to categorize themselves in his mind. Most of them were labeled as plants or small animals, a few as fungus, and these lost his interest quickly, allowing him to focus on the sharp tang of warm-blooded animals. There were no scents that seemed dangerously appealing, that made him retreat again behind his shields, but that was expected. Carlisle would not have allowed him to stop here otherwise.

"I can tell there aren't humans about," he said. "I can tell which scents are animals, but _what_ kinds of animals …"

"You'll learn quickly," Carlisle replied. "Come on, I'll show you."

He took off again, seeming to go from still to full speed instantly. Harry followed, pushing himself even harder than before so as to make up the small lead Carlisle had. He continued to smell the air, noting one scent that grew stronger as they ran. The faint patter of hooves, quite distinct from the footsteps of five vampires, reached his ears.

"Deer?" he asked, suddenly horrified, as they reached the creatures, loping through dense trees.

Carlisle didn't seem to notice his extreme reluctance. "They'll be good for your first meal."

Harry cringed. Just the thought of feeding on a deer, a _stag_, sucking its blood, it's very _life_ … it made him as sick as he supposed a vampire could feel. He couldn't believe that this hadn't occurred to him before; he could now distinctly remember Carlisle telling him that he usually fed on deer or something similar. And perhaps he could take an antelope or an elk, but not a deer, never a deer.

"No. No deer," Harry said. "Bears, you said. Or some type of wild cat. I don't care, but not a deer."

Carlisle seemed confused by Harry's hesitation. "I know it doesn't smell like something you want to eat, or even something you should eat, but–"

"I _cannot_ feed on a deer," Harry insisted, his tone brooking no argument this time.

"Carlisle, I smell a few bears not far from here," Emmett interrupted. "Let's just go …"

Carlisle conceded, but Harry could tell that he was intensely curious as to Harry's reason for rejecting deer as a meal. They all took off in another direction, Emmett speeding ahead of the rest of them, happily searching out his preferred prey. Despite still feeling disturbed by the thought of drinking the blood of a stag, Harry paid attention to the smells around him. He began to relax as the scent of the deer herd faded and a new, sharper scent grew stronger in its place.

He heard before he saw Emmett attacking the first bear they came across, but when he grew close enough, the sight had him enthralled. Wrestling a bear was no real challenge for a vampire, but watching Emmett it was easier than it should have been to forget that he was not an ordinary, if large, eighteen year old fighting a giant wild animal.

"I take it you don't need any more demonstration than that?" Carlisle asked. When Harry nodded, he continued. "Go on, then."

Harry paused only for a moment. It was still true that the scent of bear did not smell exactly appetizing, but it was more appealing than the deer had been, and certainly easier on his psyche. And he _did_ need some kind of nourishment. That thought in mind, he focused his senses and began the hunt.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Carlisle watched as Harry turned away from him, breathing steadily and starting in the direction of another bear. He stalked, style more similar to Edward's than Emmett's direct approach, nearly silent but for the soft crunch of leaves under his feet.

Carlisle was, quite frankly, relieved. When Harry had flat-out refused to feed from the herd of deer, he'd been afraid it was simply because the newborn was not content with a meal so much less satisfying than what he could easily have. And though Carlisle wouldn't stop him from leaving, from hunting what he pleased, it would not be easy to watch him go. But Harry didn't seem to have any problem with hunting a bear; in fact, he seemed nearly pleased by the prospect.

Leaving Emmett to enjoy his meal, Carlisle, Edward, and Alice followed Harry as he sped down a steep slope covered in trees; he certainly wasn't having any trouble adjusting to his body's new abilities. They took a short detour through a clearing when Harry did, then entered the thick forest again. It wasn't long before Harry found the bear he was searching for.

Moments later, Carlisle paused, motioning for Edward and Alice to do the same. The bear, now only feet away from Harry, had stopped, sensing his presence. But instead of attacking as any of them would have done by this point, Harry froze, standing more silent and still than would have been possible for any living human predator. The bear stayed still as well, unable to decide whether there was any danger or not.

Carlisle took the opportunity to study the newborn vampire at rest. He'd watched Harry while he ran alongside Carlisle all the way here and had noticed the same skilled grace that every vampire possessed to a certain extent. He had noticed also the lightness of Harry's movement, the comfort that it provided him, as though he had been made to be constantly in motion.

The young vampire's current stature contradicted that thought, for he looked more perfect than Carlisle could have imagined. He knew it was likely his instincts – although he'd grown so accustomed to the scent of human blood that he hardly registered it anymore, he _was_ still a vampire – but he did hate feeling like a love struck teenager.

Still, was it his fault that his mate was so undeniably attractive? Harry stood tall, nearly as tall as Carlisle himself. He was very thin, verging on gaunt, which belied the immense power and strength of his lean, hard muscles. His face, like that of every vampire Carlisle knew, was perfect but for a strange scar that marred his forehead. His black hair, messier now than Edward's, half-hid the mark. It was more than all that, though. The sun, which had remained hidden all morning and, truthfully, for the majority of the time since the Cullens had arrived in England, had peeked out from behind the clouds and was softly slanting through the canopy of leaves overhead. It was not enough to make him truly sparkle the way Carlisle knew he would in open, direct sunlight but instead lent him a gossamer radiance.

His musings were interrupted by a nearly inaudible chuckle that came from Edward's direction, and Carlisle knew he would have blushed if it were possible for him to do so. His forever-seventeen son had most likely been less disgustingly sappy over Bella; not only did Carlisle have to deal with that knowledge, but Edward got to experience every moment of it as well.

Making an effort to turn his thoughts to something else, Carlisle focused again on his mate, who was moving to a spot directly in the path of the bear, hidden by a thick tree trunk. He darted as quickly and lightly as a squirrel and apparently that was all the bear thought he was, taking no notice of the imminent threat as he moved about through the trees.

Then it happened, quite suddenly. The bear had nearly reached the tree behind which Harry stood – and who ever heard of a vampire hiding from a _bear_? – when the vampire jumped out in front of the animal and, with one well-placed blow, managed to crush its throat. There was no struggle, no dramatic wrestling match for Harry. The large beast struggled just to breath as Harry knocked it over, leaning down and digging into its flesh until he found a good vein from which to drink. Then he fed, deeply and hungrily, not stopping until the bear had been sucked dry.

When he had finished, he sauntered back over to Carlisle and the others at a more leisurely pace. It was not unusual for a vampire, especially a newborn on his first hunt, to become separated from the rest of reality in his intent to feed, thus why it was so important to stay far away from humans when doing so. And even though Harry had seemed completely engrossed in his task, Carlisle was almost certain that he'd been aware of their presence the whole time. Unusual.

"That was … not bad. Not the most appetizing thing I've ever tasted, but I feel better," Harry admitted when he reached Carlisle.

He looked better as well, Carlisle thought. Although, in actuality, he looked exactly the same but for his eyes, which were growing visibly lighter, transitioning from black to dark honey to amber.

"Are you at all hungry still?" Carlisle asked him. "That was a large bear, but it wouldn't be unusual if you needed something more."

"No," Harry said. "No, I'm good for now."

His eyes caught Carlisle's and for a moment the two simply looked at each other, but Carlisle knew exactly what the other vampire wanted. He hadn't meant to sound so … accusing, he supposed, when he'd told Harry that they needed to talk, but he knew that was how it had come out. It didn't help that the powers Harry had gained were so unpredictable. Even Alice hadn't seen him shattering a mirror simply by looking at it.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to meet the rest of the family," Carlisle said. "But perhaps we'd both be more comfortable if we became more acquainted first."

Harry seemed to agree but he was looking sideways at Alice and Edward, and now Emmett, who had finished off his own bear and caught up with them.

"What did I miss?" he asked in a booming voice.

"He's already finished," Carlisle replied.

"Done _already_?" The burly vampire sounded disappointed. "I was looking forward to seeing how well _he_ could wrestle a bear. It's been a long time since I had the strength of a newborn."

"Excuse me?" Harry said.

"You're stronger than me right now," Emmett told him. He smiled at the skeptical look on Harry's face.

"It's true, Harry," Carlisle informed him. "You'll be stronger than any of us for awhile now."

"So I missed a good show then?" Emmett asked.

"Oh, you missed a good show, all right, but not like the one you're imagining. This one's a hunter, not a _wrestler_," Alice said, smirking at her brother. "One good blow and that bear was done for."

Emmett pouted. "I'm definitely coming along with him again next time."

Harry just looked confused by the discussion, so Carlisle decided to cut them off.

"Enough, Emmett," he said. "There'll be plenty of time for all that. I believe Harry and I were going to discuss a few things."

"Do you think maybe we could speak in private?" Harry asked.

Carlisle had been planning on this already – Harry was _his_ mate, and there was no use in completely overwhelming him by having all of his children questioning their new companion at once. Now, disturbingly strong gifts aside, he thought it would be best to get some idea of who this Harry Potter was and what he'd been before Carlisle had found him in the forest, not to mention how he'd gotten the severe injuries and then appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

Still, he did feel compelled to warn him, "I'm agreeable to that, but you should know that what you tell me won't likely remain a secret. Edward here can read thoughts."

"He can?" Harry all but squeaked.

All of the Cullens stared at him as a panicked look crossed his face, followed by one of intense concentration. This lasted only moments before he focused on Edward, narrowing his eyes.

"What am I thinking right now?" he asked seriously.

"Ah, yes, there is that. I can't exactly read _yours_."

Harry nodded, satisfied.

"You _know_ that I can't read your mind?" Edward asked suspiciously.

"All right," Alice interrupted then, and everyone turned to look at her. "Emmett, Edward, and I are going home now."

"Alice–"

"Now," Alice insisted, and she took off at a run before either vampire could protest.

Emmett looked over at Edward and shrugged, and then the two of them took off in the same direction as Alice, leaving Harry and Carlisle standing alone in the forest. They were both quiet for a long while, much longer than any two humans could have gone without speaking or even moving.

Finally, Harry broke the silence. "You have a strange family."

His voice was quiet; the confidence and reassurance he seemed to have gained while hunting and feeding were gone now. When Carlisle looked over at him, Harry avoided his gaze.

"I suppose I do at that," Carlisle agreed.

What he was thinking, but did not say, was that he hoped it would become Harry's family as well. He couldn't help thinking so; his thoughts refused to leave the dark-haired vampire just as stubbornly as his body refused to stop reacting to everything Harry said or did. This connection, one for which Carlisle had yearned, was little more than torture. Because as much as he wanted nothing more than to tell Harry this, to tell him that the past didn't matter, to tell him nothing at all but simply take him into his arms and his heart, he could not.

It was becoming increasingly clear that the broken body he'd found in the forest had not belonged to an ordinary human. He had known, intellectually, at the time, that this was true, and that turning the young man was not the same as it had been for the others, except possibly Emmett. But it was nothing like turning Emmett either, who'd simply been a rambunctious human on the wrong side of a fight with a bear. When he'd been injecting his venom into the dying body, pumping its chest to make the poison circulate, he had thought only of the undeniable connection he felt, the physical pull. Now, he was not sure whether he had saved Harry, or condemned him.

It was time to find out; at the least, to find out whatever he could. "I know a place we can go."

_~CE~_

A/N: All right, so I haven't actually begun chapter four yet, but I promise that there will be more development between Harry and Carlisle. They're going to have a nice long talk. Hopefully it'll come out easily so you guys don't have to wait long.

Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I really did mean to have this chapter out earlier, but I got stuck at one point and then the muse made me work on a different project. I _finally_ finished tonight, so even though my editing was fairly minimal due to exhaustion, I wanted to post it right away. Hopefully, I won't look at it tomorrow and cringe and hopefully, after all the lovely reviews I received, it'll live up to your expectations as well.

Once again, no money being made here. I wish there was, but that's unfortunately not legal.

To the Night, Chapter Four

Harry gazed out over the open ravine. The sun had technically set, but it was close enough to the edge of the horizon that the western sky glowed orange and pink and purple. A stream that ran along the bottom of the fissure reflected light from the nearly full moon. The view was beautiful.

It was odd for Harry, being so far out in the middle of nowhere and feeling no discomfort and none of his usual fears. They were replaced with new ones, though, more than he could count. He was afraid of what he'd become and of what it might mean for the resistance he'd been fighting. He was afraid of his magic and why it still felt so wild, searching for the smallest opportunity to escape from his control. He was afraid that he might never see his parents or friends again, in all of eternity. He was afraid of what he felt every time he looked at Carlisle.

"I don't know quite where to begin," Carlisle said, standing a good distance away from Harry but looking in the same direction at the quickly fading sunset.

He was standing very close to the cliff's edge and Harry had to fight back the urge to tell him to step away from it. Carlisle was a vampire; he would not fall unless he wanted to fall, and even if he did, he would not be harmed.

"There are so many things I could ask you," the blonde added.

Again, Harry did not reply. He was debating how much he should reveal about himself and his past. Obviously, he was going to have explain that he was a wizard, but to tell it all, to tell the story of the Boy Who Lived and the resistance, would be exhausting. He wasn't sure he could do it if he tried, and he wasn't at all sure that he wanted this group of vampires to know everything.

He was roused from his memories when Carlisle appeared right next to him. Harry was already used to the new speed and agility with which his own body moved, but he was still startled by the sudden actions of the other vampires when he wasn't focused on them. Carlisle was now standing very close; it was nearly too uncomfortable for Harry, but he forced himself to stay where he was.

"It's gorgeous out here," Harry said, not looking away from the sky. There were many questions he could ask as well, but suddenly they didn't seem urgent; he was afraid that he might prefer not to know the answers.

Carlisle seemed to both ignore Harry's words and take them as a cue to begin their conversation. "Why wouldn't you feed on a deer?" he blurted.

Harry turned his head and raised an eyebrow. Carlisle didn't seem the type to blurt anything but rather to carefully consider the words he spoke, making his choice of question all the more intriguing.

"Out of everything, _that's_ what you most want to know?" Harry asked.

"I thought perhaps it would break the ice a bit," Carlisle explained. "You know, that it would be a good place to begin."

"Well, it's not," Harry informed him. "It's a rather loaded question; I don't think I could explain right now."

"Just try me," Carlisle offered.

Harry debated and decided that it couldn't really hurt anything. Actually, it was considerably less revealing than a number of things Carlisle could have asked him. Plus, it might be interesting to see his reaction.

"All right," he agreed. "My father was a stag."

Silence reigned for a moment while Carlisle stared at him. At first he seemed to think that Harry was joking, that he was trying to avoid the question. When he realized that this was not the case, he simply looked confused.

"Your father was a stag," Carlisle repeated. "So … how does that work exactly?"

"I suppose I should have said that my father could _turn into_ a stag," Harry amended. "He could turn into a stag at will."

Really, it was more than that, more than that James could turn into a stag. An animagus form, for those who could manage it, was more than just a creature to become when desired; it was another part, another facet, of who that person was inside. Harry could remember Sirius telling him about it, explaining the intense feeling of relief and joy that had overcome him when he mastered the final step of the transformation. Supposedly, James had felt the same way. This was the reason that nearly every witch or wizard who had the ability to become an animagus did so. Completing the change, accepting and becoming the animal, was the only way to fill the void that would exist in any of them should they choose not to stray from human form.

Harry himself, unlike his father, had never been able to learn the animagus transformation. Snape was not one himself, so it had not been a part of their lessons, and Harry hadn't the time to join Hermione when she'd asked McGonagall for instruction. Of course, even she had never completed the change. She had come close – she knew that her form was a fox – but she had not managed to finish … and Harry still considered that his fault.

He remembered the many nights they'd spent, hiding out in their tent in the middle of nowhere, alone and scared. The animagus spells were a few of the very small number which actually _had_ to be performed without a wand, but Hermione had never attempted them since leaving Hogwarts; she couldn't risk being stuck with a paw or a tail or some other animal part because Harry and Ron wouldn't be able to reverse it without using their wands and thus giving away their location. She _had_ tried to instruct the two boys in the first stages of the transformation, which were meditative only and did not entail any outward changes. Ron hadn't gotten anywhere with it at all, and though Harry had reached a point of semi-consciousness wherein he'd been running faster than any human with a strength that was not his own, he'd never made it so far as discovering what his form would be; after Hermione had died, he did not have the desire to find out.

His memories were then interrupted. "So I'm assuming that your father being able to turn into a stag somehow relates to how you knew what you were. How much _do_ you know about vampires?"

Carlisle had allowed the lapse in conversation for a short while but it seemed that he was becoming impatient. Harry honestly couldn't blame his companion; his mind was so busy processing all of the changes that there was hardly room for him to hold a conversation simultaneously. He decided he would have to make more of an effort from this point forward.

"Clearly more than you expected I would," Harry answered. He didn't like this question. It was far too broad and he could end up revealing too much. "Let me ask you something. How much do you know about the … ah, supernatural world?"

"The supernatural world?" Carlisle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know as well as I that in the wider world, vampires don't exist," Harry explained. "But there are many other things out there that muggles would never believe in but which are just as real as you and I, and I'm asking how much you know about those other things."

Carlisle paused for a moment. "Did you just say 'muggles'?" he asked. "What does that mean?"

Harry nearly cursed his slip-up. Carlisle obviously had a keen intellect and it made Harry extremely uneasy. What else might he accidentally divulge? He'd have to be more careful.

"It's just a term for the majority of people in the world, all the people who … don't believe in anything fantastical. Who don't know any better."

"A term used by whom?" Carlisle pressed.

Harry frowned. Yes, he was definitely too observant. "I'm getting to that, all right? Answer my question first."

"Well, I know that vampires exist, obviously," Carlisle stated. "And most people wouldn't believe that. In fact, it's rather a rule among vampires to make sure that no humans know of our existence, in order to keep things that way. I also know that certain other 'mythical' creatures – werewolves, for instance – do exist. But you're clearly not any of them … or weren't, I should say."

"So, nothing about, say, wizards? Witches?" Harry asked.

"I've heard of them, yes," Carlisle replied. "But I didn't know they were real."

"Well, they are," Harry told him.

"So that's what you are, then? A wizard?"

"Yes." Harry paused. "Or, I was. I don't know if it's technically possible to be both a wizard and a vampire at the same time."

"But the mirror," Carlisle said. "You were able to do things like that before?"

Harry considered this. The answer was "yes" of course, but it wasn't _really_ the same. Wandless magic was notoriously hard to do; most wizards couldn't manage one bit of controlled magic without their wands, and accidental outbursts were nearly unheard of for those who had grown accustomed to channeling their magic through a core. Harry was an exception to both of those rules, of course, but he'd struggled for every bit of wandless magic he'd wanted to perform and his accidental magic had always come at the height of emotional episodes. But standing in front of the mirror earlier that day, his magic had risen so quickly and easily to the surface and he hadn't really been feeling very emotional at all. If anything, at that moment, he'd felt rather frozen more than anything. Cold and hard and just wishing that the image in front of him would go away, would cease to be true.

"I was able to do much more than shatter a mirror, but I don't really know what I can do now," Harry decided to tell him. He was surprised at Carlisle's odd lack of reaction to this latest revelation. "Aren't you at all shocked by this?"

"I can't say that I was expecting you to tell me that you're a wizard. That you can do magic. But …" Carlisle shrugged. "I'm a vampire. Does it really _shock_ me? Not in the sense that it would shock those muggles you were talking about."

Harry nodded. He supposed he could accept that.

Carlisle interrupted the short lull. "So that's how you know that vampires exist and what they're like?"

"Yes, but keep in mind that I certainly don't know everything there is to know about vampires," Harry replied. "I didn't know that newborns, as you call them … us … are stronger than older ones. And until today, the existence of vampires who don't drink human blood was a rumor I'd heard, not a fact."

"Vegetarian vampires, we call ourselves," Carlisle explained fondly. "It is quite rare. Just my family and one other coven; they live in Alaska and stay away from humans, for the most part."

"But your coven doesn't," Harry stated. "How is that? Why? Isn't it very difficult?"

"It is, more for some of us than others. For instance, I have been around human blood so often that I'm hardly tempted by the scent anymore, if at all."

"Why exactly have you been exposed to so much human blood?" Harry asked.

Carlisle almost laughed at the other vampire's suspicion. "I'm a physician, Harry. I've been practicing in various places for quite a number of years now. I suppose I feel that if there is any redemption for me, it is by healing the very creatures I was made to prey upon."

"So you smell human blood all the time? And you don't wish to drink it?" Harry asked. He couldn't imagine ever being free of this horrible thirst.

Carlisle stopped for a moment then; Harry could tell that he was debating something in his mind, and when he spoke next, the subject became clear. "I don't think any vampire will ever be able to completely repress the desire for human blood. But I will say this: your blood was the strongest … the most appealing that I have come across in ages. Perhaps forever. I was enthralled by it, but I was not in any danger of losing control when I found you."

Harry took a moment to absorb everything Carlisle had just told him. It was unbelievable that the vampire would have the desire to live among humans at all, let alone be able to work with them as a doctor.

"How old are you, anyway?" he asked.

"Over three hundred years old," Carlisle replied with a chuckle.

"Is all of your coven that old?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Oh, certainly not. The next oldest would be Jasper, who was born in the eighteen hundreds, although comparatively he's new to our … lifestyle. Edward was my first companion. He was my patient, and I turned him when he was dying. I knew it was the closest I would get to having a child of my own. I never imagined I would have a whole family."

"I've never heard of vampires having families," Harry mused, sounding nostalgic. "I mean, covens yes, but the way I've seen you behave together, it seems like something more. Like in some ways they really are siblings and you really are their father."

"It _is_ more than being a coven," Carlisle told him. "In most every way. I tend to think it has something to do with our diets, because we're so different from others of our kind, and we're all in it together. By necessity, we must be more compassionate. Thus, we do not have to stay together simply to help hunt humans or make the nomadic life less lonely. We support each other in other, more human ways. We don't judge … or, well, we try not to judge."

He smiled at something Harry was not privy to. It made him terribly sad; it made him want to know everything about Carlisle, to understand him, though he didn't know if that was even possible. How could he ever understand a vampire who denied what he was in nearly every way?

"I want you to meet the rest of them. I want you to _know_ all of them," Carlisle told Harry. "But I also want to protect them …"

"And I'm something you need to protect them from," Harry finished for him.

It was almost amusing; perhaps now he truly was a creature that others needed protection from, but so many times in the past, when he'd been an innocent human, a harmless boy, people had thought the same. Of course, that was now long ago, before the war had ended, when he was still a student at Hogwarts. He'd done so many things since then that he'd probably been a monster already, if no more of a monster than despotic leaders of the new wizarding government. He decided, then and there, that Carlisle could not be allowed to know his past as it truly was.

"I don't mean any offense," Carlisle added. "I just know so little about you."

"And I know so little about you," Harry confirmed. He remembered something Carlisle had said before. "Or your family. How exactly are there seven and a half of you?"

"You caught that, did you?" Carlisle asked. "What I meant was seven and a half vampires."

"My question stands," Harry replied.

"Yes, well, it's just that. Seven vampires and one half-vampire."

"How exactly does one become half-vampire?"

"One doesn't _become_ half-vampire," Carlisle said. "I apologize. I'm not explaining this well. Renesmee is the daughter of Edward and Bella. Bella became pregnant by Edward when she was still human. And before you go thinking us evil, we had no idea that such a thing could happen. For lack of a better way to put it, we thought that our venom was the only bodily fluid that vampires produce. As it is, we were wrong."

Harry swallowed nervously. "But that means he … with her as a human. I know what it felt like when I killed that bear. It was nothing. How did he not destroy her?"

"Edward has always had remarkable self-control, but it progressed to a new level when he met Bella because he refused to turn her for quite awhile," Carlisle answered.

Harry nodded, but he wasn't entirely convinced. How was it _possible_ to have that much self-control?

"What about you?" Carlisle asked then. "Have you left behind some kind of family? I wasn't thinking about it when I turned you. I didn't want to think about it. But you would have been leaving them, anyway."

_No, I would have finally been joining them_, Harry thought, but didn't say. He wanted to say it, actually. He wanted to shock Carlisle, to make him see what he had done to Harry; he wanted Carlisle to understand.

"No, no family," Harry replied instead. "I've never really had a family."

"Never?" Carlisle asked.

"No," Harry replied. "My parents died when I was a baby, and I grew up with my aunt, my mum's sister, and her husband and son. I was never close to them."

If that wasn't an understatement …

"That must have been lonely," Carlisle said.

Harry shrugged. "I went to boarding school starting at age eleven. So I didn't have to put up with them as much after that."

"They sent you to boarding school to get rid of you?"

"Er, no," Harry replied. "They actually didn't want me to go. It wasn't a normal boarding school, it was for witches and wizards. I learned magic there."

"You learned _magic_ in school?" Carlisle asked. "That must have been interesting."

"It was school," Harry replied shortly. He didn't feel like talking about Hogwarts; too many of his experiences at the school were tied in with the issue of Voldemort, and he'd decided that Carlisle would hear none of that.

Harry realized then that he hadn't so much as moved more than his head in ages. It didn't feel odd for him to have simply stood there speaking to Carlisle for hours on end without growing tired or uncomfortable, and that in itself was disconcerting. He shifted his weight around but ended up in exactly the same position he'd been and so, needing some kind of distraction from their conversation, he plopped down at the edge of the cliff, watching as the moon now started to fall in the western sky.

Carlisle waited a long moment, as though Harry would stand up again, then lowered himself to the ground. Harry noted that the blond vampire did not come any closer as he did so.

"That can't be all you have to tell me," Carlisle said softly. "You have to be, what, late twenties? Right around my age, physically. And you're a wizard. Hasn't your life been …?"

"What? Exciting?" Harry asked. He had to be sure to choose his words carefully. "I guess when you have the ability to use magic, it's not as impressive as it seems from the outside. That's not to say that it was _never_ impressive. But it wears off after awhile. It just becomes … life."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Carlisle frown. "You seem so disillusioned."

Harry nodded a bit. Now he would have to be most cautious with what he said, if he didn't want Carlisle to know the truth or to guess that Harry was not telling it. Snape had once told him to keep any lies or misdirection as close to reality as possible; that was what he must do.

"So, there's this whole wizarding world out there, right? Just hidden amongst everything else. There are whole parts of London that only witches and wizards can access. They have all kinds of shops, selling magic wands, attire – which is quite a bit more … medieval … than the current fashion – and books on magical topics, cauldrons, ingredients for potions and species of pets that shouldn't exist. I was amazed when I first found out about it all, and I _was_ amazed by school. But then, what eleven year old _wouldn't_ be amazed by all of those things?

"See, it's not just about that, about how wonderful it is to be able to do things that have no logical explanation. There's a whole other world, an entire separate government to run that world, and with the good comes the bad. You don't realize it when you're eleven, but witches and wizards are no different from other people; they have strengths and weaknesses, and they can be intelligent and awe-inspiring, but they can also be close-minded and prejudiced. And as in the wider world out there, more of them tend to be the latter than the former."

Harry paused for a moment, feeling bogged down and weightless all at once. Before, even when he'd been as still and silent as possible, breathing in and out so softly that even a vampire probably wouldn't have been able to hear him, even then, his heart had always been hammering away in his chest. The complete absence of movement and sound belied his very existence and conjured again the intense desire he felt to simply _not_ subsist.

"When I started school, things were different; they weren't so bad. The Headmaster, he was one of those awe-inspiring wizards; he was not prejudiced at all, and he had a great deal of influence in our world. But he was also very old. I mean, maybe even as old as … who was it, Jasper? I know he was definitely born in the nineteenth century. In any case, he died, and things started to change. By the time I left school, it was not a world to which I wanted to belong, not in its current state, but neither was it a world I could bring myself to leave entirely.

"You want to know what I've been doing for the past ten years? I don't have a formal education in anything but the wizarding world so I've just worked odd jobs, in restaurants and stores, moving around all the time. And I've tried to find a way to change that world, but I don't know how. I have no power, no leverage, no _rights_."

"Do you mind me asking," Carlisle began, interrupting, "what exactly are these prejudices based upon? I mean, I know in various cultures it can be due to race or religion …"

"Blood," Harry answered. "Purity of blood. If you were born to parents who have as much magic as a teaspoon, then you're pretty much completely screwed. It doesn't matter if you're intelligent or personable or powerful – magically powerful I mean. It's all down to something as stupid as ancestry."

"So you're in this group that doesn't have the right ancestry to have any sort of status in the wizarding world?" Carlisle clarified.

Harry did not answer directly because saying "yes" would technically be a lie. If he wasn't Harry Potter, if he'd been born a day later and the prophecy had never applied to him, if he hadn't been so staunchly against everything the purebloods stood for, then perhaps things might have been different. But all of that was out of his hands.

"It doesn't even make any sense," he replied instead, turning to face Carlisle "One of my best friends in school, Hermione … she was absolutely brilliant. Everyone, all of the professors, said she was the most talented witch they'd seen in ages, right? But both her parents were dentists. She would be working in some mindless job right now, a clerk at the bookshop or an assistant taking notes and fetching cups of tea at the Ministry. They would be _wasting_ her."

Carlisle's eyes looked terribly sad at the moment, but he held Harry's gaze. "So she left the wizarding world, like you?"

"No," Harry said, his whole body seeming to constrict. He turned away, knowing he'd be crying right now if it was possible. "No, she died."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Carlisle offered.

Harry did not reply. He couldn't. All he could do was picture Hermione's body as it had been when he found it, lying mangled outside their tent. She'd only been waiting for him so they could apparate away together, and they'd found her and ambushed her, leaving her remains behind for him to find.

"Harry?" Carlisle asked softly. "What happened to you, before I found you? The injuries you had, they were catastrophic. How did you get them?"

Harry tore his mind away from thoughts of Hermione as best as he could, which was not very well at all. "I was in an accident," he answered.

It was the one complete lie he would tell, and only out of necessity. There were only so many ways such injuries could be explained, and he couldn't very well tell Carlisle that he'd gotten them escaping from the captivity of a government official without putting his earlier explanation into question.

"I had a flying motorbike, see," he elaborated. "It was my godfather's, before _he_ died. I hadn't flown it in awhile – hadn't much occasion to, living amongst muggles – but I had a bit too much to drink and decided that taking it up in the air would be a good idea."

"I didn't hear a crash. And I didn't see a smashed motorbike anywhere near your body," Carlisle replied sounding more curious than skeptical, as Harry had feared he might.

"Oh, I didn't crash it in the woods. I crashed it just on the outskirts of a muggle town," he said. A gale of bitter laughter escaped him before he even knew to expect it. "I apparated away when I realized that people were coming to help me, to take me to a hospital."

"But why wouldn't you have let them help you?" Carlisle asked. He paused for a moment. "Or were you _trying_ to, ah … what was that word you just used? Were you trying to get to someone who could heal you with magic?"

Harry spun then, pulling his legs up over the edge of the ravine so he could face Carlisle dead on. The rawness of his anger and despair was palpable.

"Do you seriously not get it?" he asked, nearly yelling. "Do you honestly not understand?"

"Understand what?" Carlisle asked. His face seemed suddenly different, his cheeks more hollow and his eyes more heavily lidded.

"I apparated to those woods to die!" Harry shouted. "You found me, nearly dead, and turned me into _this_ when all I wanted was to finally be dead!"

_

* * *

_

_~CE~_

Well, I hope you all enjoyed that. It was a bit more resistant in coming out the first three but I made it through.

Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: All right, everyone, finally another Chapter of To the Night. I'm sorry to leave you all in suspense for so long, but ... I did what I had to do. And by that I mean that I didn't know what to do. I actually wrote a draft of this chapter quite quickly but I hated it. Mostly, I felt like the plot wasn't moving along quickly enough. I tried different tactics but none of the writing felt genuine. The story felt rushed more than anything. Plus, I wanted to go with my instincts here; normally, when I have an idea for a fic, I plan it to within an inch of its life, and then it never ends up being written, so with To the Night I decided to just write what I was feeling, to let the story lead me (I didn't really understand what they meant until I started writing this). And right now my characters _want_ to take things slow and get to know each other and become adjusted, etc., and so that's what I'm allowing them to do. I suppose it's not necessary by now but I feel the need to say that this chapter is very introspective, and you probably won't see a lot of action for the next couple chapters as well. But I feel that Harry needs some _time_ and so I'm giving it to him. But fear not, the action is coming, and I do hope you'll all enjoy what comes in between.

So, for those of you who are still reading this, as usual I want to thank everyone who read and especially those who reviewed! There are times when I didn't think I would ever get a somewhat decent draft of chapter five, but reading a review of someone who really liked it kept me going. So thank you. And no, unfortunately, I don't own this stuff, but I wish I did!

To the Night, Chapter Five

Carlisle moved about the small hospital with the same care and precision as always, but today he was distracted from his work. How could he possibly not be, after the night he'd had, the discussion with Harry that had been so informative and so devastating?

He couldn't say that he was completely unfamiliar with the feelings Harry had expressed. When he'd first been turned into what he was, before he'd known that he didn't need to feed off of humans to survive, he had attempted various ways of ending his existence. Even after he'd begun feeding from animals, he had not been immune to suicidal feelings, knowing that it would take little more than a close encounter with a human whose blood smelled especially tempting to turn him into the monster that rested inside. Of course, nothing he'd tried had worked - little would, short of convincing another vampire that they needed to kill you.

But Harry, his mate, had wanted to die before he'd ever become a vampire, when he'd been a living, breathing soul. Humans were so fragile and powerless that it was almost amazing to Carlisle that any one of them who actively _wanted_ to die ever remained alive. Yet Harry had, long enough for Carlisle to find him. In fact, if Harry had been telling the truth, if the motorcycle crash had actually been an accident and not done purposely, then he had done nothing to further his own death but avoid treatment when it seemed unlikely he could have been saved in the first place. And if _that_ was true, then perhaps his mate was not beyond help. Carlisle had to believe that this was true, that he could convince the dark-haired vampire to become a part of his family.

He didn't think he'd done too badly so far. It had been only hours before that Harry had made his declaration, yelling into the thin night air. They'd both been sitting but Harry had jumped to his feet immediately after and Carlisle had followed, freezing in place as Harry stared out over the ravine they'd gone to. Surely, with as much as he knew about vampires, he didn't think that jumping off a cliff would make any sort of difference?

Then it had occurred to Carlisle that perhaps his mate was considering disappearing to some other place. What was that word he'd used? Obviously he could move from one location to another without traveling the distance between; that was, apparently, how he'd gotten to the clearing in the woods where Carlisle had found him and turned him. He had nearly panicked, then, knowing that if Harry _did_ disappear, there would be little chance of finding him. And even if Carlisle managed to, Harry could just leave again, couldn't he? Carlisle couldn't let him go like that, not without giving the Cullens and their life a chance. Not without giving _Carlisle_ the chance to help him, if he could.

Instead of disappearing or even jumping, however, Harry had quite suddenly turned and run. Carlisle started after him immediately, pushing himself to the limits of his own speed as Harry grew faster and faster. Knowing that he would not be able to keep pace with a newborn moving at full speed, Carlisle had begun to worry that Harry would gain too much distance on him, but no sooner had the thought occurred than his mate stopped abruptly. The trees were so thick in this portion of the woods that Carlisle had been forced to move about until Harry came into his line of vision. Even with a vampire's senses, it was difficult to see, the thick canopy of leaves blocking the small amount of light shining from the moon and stars. Still Carlisle could see Harry standing there, looking almost bewildered by Carlisle's presence.

At that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to go to Harry's side, to pull his mate into his arms and offer whatever measure of comfort he could. But even if Harry had not reacted so violently to Carlisle's touch back in the bathroom, he knew that it wasn't a good idea. Harry needed to accept that he was still alive - in some sense of the word - and decide what that meant for him before Carlisle made any sort of move with him. Not just for Harry's sake, but for Carlisle's own; it would be difficult enough if he should lose Harry now, but if he became any more attached and _then_ lost him, he wasn't sure how he might react.

So rather than reaching out physically, Carlisle had spoken. "Harry." His voice was as soft as he could make it. "I won't try to tell you that I understand. I can't, and you don't want to hear that. But just know that you … don't have to be alone anymore. My family is open to you. We want you to stay with us, to be one of us."

Harry's eyes seemed to glow in the night. "And why would I want to stick around someone who turned me into this?"

"I know you may hate me for what I did to you." Oh, how true that statement clearly was! "But you must believe that I was not trying to hurt you, in any way. I was only trying to save you from death."

"And yet I'm not really alive anymore, am I?" Harry had asked.

Carlisle had longed to explain then to Harry that they were mates. That he had not simply found a random human dying in the woods and decided to turn him without knowing a thing about the circumstances; he had found his mate dying in the woods, and he had changed him because Alice and Edward had told him he would, because his instincts had told him he had to, because he couldn't be alone any longer. But he knew that telling Harry of the true nature of their bond would, at this point, have been a mistake of epic proportions. If he hadn't already scared him off …

"Please, just … come home with me. Allow yourself some time to adjust to the change, and get to know us better. Get to know me better. Please," he had repeated, trying not to allow the desperation he felt to creep into his voice.

And Harry had agreed. They had run back to the house together, Carlisle leading since Harry was still not familiar with the woods. On the way there, Carlisle had told him more about the family, clarifying each member and the relationships between them. He'd spoken of the various gifts his family possessed and had warned Harry that there was a werewolf with them. Harry had been silent at that information before informing Carlisle that his favorite school teacher had been a werewolf; he'd seemed so terribly sad when he said it that Carlisle did not respond. Soon after, they'd reached home, and Carlisle, so new to the hospital as it was, had no choice but to go into work.

Now, he was counting down the minutes until he could return home. He'd been thinking about Harry all day; or perhaps worrying was a better term. He knew that one of his children would have called if anything happened, but that didn't stop him from fretting over it. While he was busy playing through their conversation from the night before, Harry might have been thinking about where he would go if he left or of how he might end his existence as a vampire. Presumably wizards would know _how_ to destroy a vampire, but were they capable of it?

Well, there was nothing he could do about Harry at the moment. Sighing, he ran through the list of things he needed to do and patients he needed to see before his shift was over, scowling at the thought of having to be kind and gentle when his mind resided so firmly elsewhere. Normally, he felt much more gracious, _enjoyed_ helping people, but today he wanted nothing more than to be at home with his mate. Only three hours left to go …

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry was, at that moment, doing exactly nothing.

He had agreed to come back to the house with Carlisle mostly out of confusion. Why would the other vampire possibly still want to know him, when Harry had admitted that he loathed the idea of being a vampire? That he would have rather died than now be in the company of the Cullens? It didn't make any sense. He obviously hadn't turned Harry for his own gain; if anything, he'd gone out of his way to make Harry comfortable, not that such a thing was possible anymore.

On the way, Carlisle had told him about his family. Harry, obviously, had already met Edward, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice, but there was also Rosalie, Bella, and the half-human Renesmee, all of whom had gone away for the day when Harry would wake, not wanting to take any chances with the blood that flowed through Nessie's body. He'd been surprised to hear that they had a werewolf companion who was family by now, but had assured Carlisle that he had no prejudices against werewolves. He knew, theoretically, that as a vampire, he might have a different reaction than he'd ever had to Remus, but wondered if it might help that he'd grown so close to his ex-professor.

When they had arrived home, he'd been introduced to the Cullens he hadn't met earlier. Rosalie was the picture of perfection, but the arrogant turn of her head made Harry think she resembled a Malfoy far more than Carlisle had when Harry first spotted him. Bella, a gorgeous brunette, and Edward flanked their daughter, who didn't look even a bit younger than they did. Harry could hear her heart racing in her chest, but the smell held little appeal for him as a meal; the scents that had tempted him earlier and hung in the air still were clearly from other nearby humans. They couldn't have been _too_ far from humanity if Carlisle worked as a physician and the others were posing as secondary school students. Very close to them stood a teenager with black hair to his shoulders and rich skin - apparently he was the werewolf. He was watching Harry quite warily.

"I'm not going to attack you," Harry assured him quietly, but Jacob still looked skeptical. "Honestly, you may smell disgusting but that doesn't mean I want you dead."

That seemed to satisfy him; or perhaps it was simply the fact that this family owed him more loyalty than they owed Harry, whether the werewolf was a natural enemy or not. If Harry _did_ try to attack, no doubt he'd be up against a whole family of vampires.

Once he'd been introduced, he took a moment to study them all more thoroughly. As back in the woods, Emmett looked the friendliest, amusement clear on his face; at what, Harry could not have said. Conversely, Rosalie seemed the most hostile, or perhaps that was just the self-absorption. Odd that they were a couple, but he supposed that opposites sometimes did attract. The thought of Ron and Hermione had him scowling again, and the little vampire, Alice, looked curious and sympathetic. Harry had to make an effort not to sneer in her direction; she seemed nice enough, but he couldn't help the small wave of revulsion he felt when he looked at her. He had, after all, not had the best interactions with seers in the past.

In any case, every single one of them - possibly excluding Rosalie - looked like they were dying to ask questions. But no one spoke. Harry realized the reason for this a moment later when he glanced over at Carlisle to find him giving his children a death glare. Harry hadn't thought to request that he keep certain parts of their conversation private, but Carlisle didn't seem to need told that some things should remain personal. Then Harry remembered that Edward was able to read Carlisle's mind and realized it was probably a hopeless cause.

Carlisle had then saved him from certain torture at the hands of his children by showing Harry to a bedroom upstairs - the one he'd woken up in.

"Obviously, you won't need it to sleep in, but it's your space all the same, for as long as you'd like it to be," Carlisle explained. "I'm sure you'll want to be alone for awhile. I'll tell the others not to bother you as long as you promise to go to them if you get hungry again, or need anything else."

Harry had assured him that he would, assured him that he'd be fine and would appreciate the time to think. Then the other vampire had finally left, clicking the door shut behind him and leaving Harry alone. Harry had stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the swirling pattern of the paint on the ceiling, and that was the position he'd remained in since Carlisle had left hours before.

He had been trying to focus his mind on something productive, on one of the many things he needed to consider before he decided what his next move would be. He was fairly certain he would stay with the Cullens until he made that decision, if only because he could be certain that at least one of them would always accompany him on a hunting trip to prevent him from accidentally feeding on a human. Beyond that, though, he truly didn't know.

He had spent more than ten years running and surviving and trying to fight back, to make some kind of difference in the wizarding world. And though he had thought about death, had wanted it in the sense of wanting to finally _rest_, he had never once attempted to take his own life. He had known that it would be wrong; he did desire some aspects of death, but not others. How could he cease to keep fighting when he was still alive and able to remain that way? How could he abandon a world he might have the ability to save?

Then he'd been captured, by Lucius Malfoy of all people; before his escape, he had considered it an inevitability, but now he wondered whether he hadn't allowed himself to be caught. He had been quick to give up hope and assume that escape would be impossible, that death was finally a viable option. He had even _chosen_ death at that point, except that fate had once again interfered in Harry's business and made sure that a family of vampires just happened upon him only minutes before his death. And not just any family, but one with a leader who was good and kind and only trying to _save_ Harry by turning him.

And now? Now he was lost. A part of him - a large part, at that - wanted to find a way to die. Or be destroyed. Whatever. He thought back to Defense Against the Dark Arts classes; many theories on vampires held that they had no souls, but was it possible to have a conscience without a soul? There was no doubt that the Cullens still had consciences, and Harry still had his as well. If the pesky thing would just go away, then perhaps he could finally leave this world to the destruction of its own making and find some semblance of peace. Instead, Harry was back to where he'd been during the years he'd fought in the resistance. He still wanted death on some level, still cursed the gods that they would not let him die, but he knew it was no longer his only option.

Harry was free from captivity, he was conscious and moving, and he still had his magic. If anything - dare he think it - his magic was even stronger than it had been before. Different, at the very least. He had not lost awareness of it since he'd woken, even if it had seemed more under control once he'd gotten a meal. And vampires were naturally resistant to nearly all spells, which meant he'd actually gained an extra layer of protection. Wouldn't it be wrong of him _not_ to continue to fight?

On the other hand, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find his way back into the resistance. Most wizards wouldn't take too kindly to being approached by a vampire, especially since few would notice or understand his lack of crimson eyes. And even if he did join again and the resistance did manage to make some kind of progress, would he even want to rejoin that society, constantly tempted by the smell of their blood?

Moreover, he couldn't deny that, in many ways, he simply longed to stay right here. He couldn't explain it, why the feeling was so strong. He supposed that overall, the Cullens, Carlisle in particular, seemed like kind, interesting creatures. And they _wanted_ Harry there with them. If he could talk them into leaving England - and he knew they had only just arrived, really - and not coming back for a long while, then he might have a chance of escaping his past, in the physical sense at the very least.

But, of course, the moment his still, unbeating heart would jump at this idea, the whole of his being would quash it down, label it "impossible" and force his mind onto other thoughts. He had _not_ fought for ten years only to give up now, when he was still capable. He couldn't, could he? That would be like cursing the gift his parents had given him, the sacrifices they and so many others had made to keep him alive and bring down Voldemort. His only choice was to endure, wasn't it?

Oh, if only it was. If only things were simpler, as they had once been. Harry felt he was going mad; perhaps he'd been mad for a long while now and simply never noticed it in his solitude.

His thoughts continued to waver throughout the day, back and forth from one extreme to another, from how he must find the resistance again to ways in which he might be destroyed, as much as those thoughts disgusted him for how weak he was. It didn't stop him from considering which wizards might know how to destroy a vampire and which might actually be able to do so. Not Malfoy, though, because he'd be stupid enough to try and capture Harry again and damned if he mightn't succeed - Harry honestly wasn't sure. But there were others who would know. The problem with that, as Harry saw it, was that he might not be _able_ to just sit back and allow himself to be defeated. Harry had always had a keen sense of preservation, reacting to any threat sometimes before he consciously knew what it was; it was too much to expect that the vampire in him wouldn't do the same thing, and with his magic _and_ a vampire's reflexes, he wasn't sure there was a witch or wizard who _could_ defeat him, with both Voldemort and Dumbledore long dead.

He was relieved when he finally heard a car approaching and then stopping outside the house. Instinctively, he knew it was Carlisle and was grateful for this. He had been sitting alone all day without even the respite of sleep to occupy or rejuvenate him, and perhaps that was making him feel mad as much as anything. Seeing Carlisle, speaking to him a bit more, suddenly seemed like the best idea he'd had all day.

He heard the doctor's footsteps enter the house and stop in a room downstairs. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop - he'd been able to hear the rest of the Cullens moving about and talking throughout the day, though not exactly what they were saying or doing - but he was able to listen as Carlisle asked his children how their day had been, what kind of trouble they'd made, and if Harry had emerged from his room at all. He seemed to be especially tuned to that particular, smooth voice.

Harry sat up and swung his legs off the bed as Carlisle continued further into the house and up the stairs. He was expecting the sharp rap on the door and responded with a quiet, "Come in."

Carlisle entered and Harry couldn't have stopped himself from staring if he'd tried. Somehow, the short hours of separation between them made Harry feel as though he was seeing the vampire anew. He couldn't believe he'd likened this man to Malfoy the first time he'd set eyes on him; Carlisle was by far more beautiful, and his face was filled with kindness and worry.

"Was your day all right?" Carlisle asked. "They said you didn't come down at all."

Harry shrugged lightly. "Didn't feel like it."

After a moment, Carlisle looked to the empty expanse of bed next to where Harry was perched. "Do you mind if I sit?"

Harry nodded his head to grant permission. He started to scoot over a bit, but as Carlisle approached and settled himself down, Harry realized he did not want to be any further away.

Carlisle watched him carefully throughout this, measuring his reactions. No one had looked at him so closely in so long; Harry had made sure of it. He could not afford to be noticeable, to draw any kind of attention to himself. It was just another way he'd managed to stay alive. Now, though, Carlisle studied him as though he truly saw him - not just the pale skin and dark hair and amber eyes, the beauty he'd never needed, but as though he could see right through it all to Harry's soul. It was comforting and disconcerting all at once.

"Our conversation last night got cut off," Carlisle spoke then, interrupting the odd silence. "You told me about your life before now, but I didn't get to speak to you about myself before I was turned."

Harry didn't respond, but he focused his attention fully on Carlisle, letting the other vampire know that he was listening, that he cared.

"My father raised me alone, as my mother died giving birth to me - it was quite common in those days. I was his only child and he was always kind enough to me but … he could be a cold man. He was a pastor, but he was not a quiet, religious man. He was overt in his beliefs; he denounced anyone of a differing faith and he … well, he led what were essentially witch hunts."

Carlisle paused and Harry realized that he was expecting him to react to this, as though Harry might not have realized that over time, various groups wanted to kill people like him - both as a wizard and a vampire. "You don't have to sugarcoat anything. I know all about witch hunts and the like," he explained. "It was rare that an actual witch or wizard was actually caught."

Carlisle frowned. "Yes, I'm sorry to say that my father killed many innocent people in his quest to better the world. I'm also sorry to say that when he became too infirm to continue what he believed his life's work, he expected me to take over, and I obliged.

"Oh, I didn't do exactly as he did. I was more thorough in my observations and ignored many of the warnings he gave me. But then I discovered an actual coven of vampires, you see, hiding underneath London during the day and coming out only at night to feed. So one evening I led my father's followers to them, not understanding how truly difficult it is to destroy them, how futile it is to attempt any resistance. Many people were killed that night, and few, if any, vampires."

"And you were bitten," Harry said quietly.

Carlisle looked startled. "How did you know?"

"It wasn't a difficult leap to make. You survived that night, and you're a vampire now, aren't you?" Harry shrugged.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I don't know how I managed to be turned. I can only assume that the vampire who attacked me was distracted by too many of us and did not adequately finish me off. I … well, you know what the pain is like. But I managed to hide myself until the change was over. I knew, even through the haze of pain, that I would have been destroyed while still in an incapacitated state. I had been tainted by the monsters."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked.

"So you understand … you're not the only one who's wanted to die, Harry," Carlisle said softly. "When I realized what I'd become … I had been raised to think of vampires as evil, vile beings, creatures that must be destroyed at all costs. Imagine realizing that you've become something you've always hated."

Harry's mind flew so quickly to various memories then that it was as though Carlisle had broken through his Occlumency shields, entered his mind, and directed him to these specific instances. Images of Harry, wand raised, a frightening look in his eyes and a sickening green light. Images of the monster Harry had become, the monster he swore he'd never be. And he'd not had that title forced upon him as Carlisle had, but had earned it through his own actions, his own decisions. He'd killed so many. So maybe it hadn't happened all at once for him, and maybe he hadn't realized. He couldn't allow himself to feel horrified when Voldemort was still alive because he had a task to complete, and then he hadn't allowed himself to feel horrified because he was only trying to stay alive, to protect himself and others; eventually he'd been so desensitized that he hadn't been able to feel horrified at all, and wasn't that somehow worse? That he'd simply let it happen?

"Harry?"

Harry snapped back to attention to find Carlisle looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Sorry. I was imagining," he said. He was quiet as he gazed back at Carlisle.

The other vampire no longer looked confused. "I tried to kill myself, Harry," he said softly. "I didn't know what would and wouldn't destroy a vampire. I threw myself off of cliffs and tried to drown myself in the oceans. None of it worked. I grew hungrier by the day; it was only my extreme revulsion for what I was that gave me the strength to stay away from my natural prey.

"Eventually, of course, I grew too weak. Luckily, I was in the middle of nowhere, far from any humans, and before I reached any I came across a herd of deer. My thirst was so great I think I would have accepted any warm blood at that point. Then, after I had drunk and regained full control of myself, I realized the implications of what had just happened: that I could survive from animals. That I would not have to become a murderer, either by choice or against my will."

Harry softened. "I suppose, in this, I am lucky. You won't let me feed on a human." He threw his mind to the future, thinking that perhaps he could change; perhaps he had already killed his last person and just didn't know it yet. But that was too hopeful a thought, considering the circumstances.

"I would prefer that you didn't," Carlisle said, frowning. "But if you ever choose to, consciously and not in blood lust, then I would not stop you. It is your decision to make, not mine. I would only ask that you do it away from my family. With as much as we stand out to the humans simply because of how we appear, we must be very cautious to keep our secret from them."

Harry shook his head at the blond vampire. "I will never choose to feed on a human," he promised. "So don't ever let me, if you can stop me."

Carlisle smiled then, and Harry felt something inside him shift. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said. "But you shouldn't feel bad if you make a mistake. It's very difficult, especially when you're new to the life. It took me two centuries to perfect my control."

"So you're saying that at some point, I'm probably going to lose control and drink from a human?" Harry asked.

"I'm saying it's possible, and I don't want you to feel badly if it does. You might not. There were times when I thought nothing could stop me from going after a particularly strong scent, but somehow I resisted. And Bella has had an easier time than any of us because of her gifts. If Edward can't read your mind either, then perhaps you'll also find yourself able to block out the desire for human blood."

Harry nodded his head to agree with Carlisle even though his mind was still busy interpreting the other vampire's words. He must have heard something wrong, because he'd thought he'd just heard … and surely … Carlisle had been alive for over three hundred years. "You've mean you've never fed on a human? You've never killed anyone in your entire existence?"

Harry couldn't read Carlisle's expression. "I've killed other vampires," he said. "And if you count the people who died that night I was turned because I led them into danger …"

Harry didn't. He couldn't, because he'd done the same thing countless times before he'd ever considered himself a murderer. He'd led Cedric straight to his death, had led Sirius to the veil. And although he'd known those deaths were his fault in some horrifying, tangible way, he had not actually been the one to raise his wand and strike the death blow. Like Carlisle when he led those people to the coven he'd found, Harry had _thought_ he was doing the right thing.

"What are you thinking about?" Carlisle asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Nothing," Harry replied.

He regretted saying it almost immediately. It was obvious to both of them that he had been deep in thought about something, but Carlisle seemed disinclined to force the subject, and instead shot Harry another reassuring smile.

"Well, unless you'd rather be left alone for now, I can tell you about what I did _after_ realizing that I couldn't end my life, and perhaps didn't want to," Carlisle offered. "Being alive for more than three centuries tends to outfit one with a great lexicon of tales."

Harry couldn't help the smile that quirked his lips at Carlisle's words. Some of the ways in which he spoke evoked memories of Dumbledore and the old wizard's eccentricities. It wasn't that surprising; Carlisle may have looked only just younger than Harry himself, but he'd been born about two hundred years earlier than the late Headmaster.

"I'd like to hear them," Harry agreed.

Carlisle spoke again then, and although Harry wanted nothing more than to listen to the stories, he couldn't stop his thoughts from turning to darker avenues. He knew now that he'd made the right decision in keeping the details of his past from Carlisle. He'd thought perhaps he would reveal it one day, when they'd gotten to know each other better and trusted each other, when Carlisle could see that Harry was not a monster. But Carlisle had never killed a man in over three hundred years of existence, and Harry had lost count of the lives he'd taken; _he_ was the monster, and he had been for a very long time now.

Pushing the fear and self-hatred that threatened to overwhelm him to a place deeper inside, Harry felt grateful that the tears which wanted form could not do so, and instead he shut his eyes and let Carlisle's soft voice wash over his worries. It was almost soothing enough to dislodge the pit of dread that had settled in his stomach, and he wished that this moment in time would last forever, because he was not sure that he could face reality when it ended.

* * *

_~CE~_

I do hope you guys liked it. Review and let me know!! And I hereby promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure that there's not another two month wait in between chapters ...


	6. Chapter 6

All right, so I'm back. I told you all that I wasn't giving this story up! I want to thank everyone who's actually still reading. I'm so surprised and pleased when I still get story alerts even though I haven't updated in almost a year. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. The next one is almost done as well, so it should be up in the next few days as well. After that, I make no promises ...

Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own any of it.

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_To the Night, Chapter Six_

The following days were an odd time for Harry. Although he'd gotten quite comfortable with Carlisle's presence and had even, to an extent, grown accustomed to the other family members, whom he could hear even somewhat from behind closed doors, he had not yet faced any of them without Carlisle by his side and a desperate need to hunt.

It had now been nearly three weeks since he'd woken as a vampire and he'd spent little time outside the room that had been designated his, but Carlisle _had_ managed to coax him out one evening for a reason other than hunting. He had taken Harry to his study which, with numerous old, impressive paintings on the walls and books everywhere, had again reminded Harry of Dumbledore, though the room didn't have the delicate magical instruments placed about as the Headmaster's had. Harry had, at Carlisle's prompting, taken a couple books to distract himself, but he had hardly picked them up since, too distracted by his own depressing spiral of thoughts to concentrate on anything else.

The only thing that seemed to be able to hold his attention was Carlisle himself. With the other vampire's help, Harry was slowly coming out of the shell he'd placed around himself the moment he realized what he'd become. Carlisle spent hours with him every evening. They only hunted every few nights or so - Harry didn't really grow thirsty every day, and he wanted to practice blocking the tempting smells with Occlumency, anyway - but no matter what, Carlisle would come to him when he arrived home from work. He spoke of his own past, of his acceptance of what he was, of how he'd left England for France and then Italy and various other places before he'd gone to the States, and of how he'd come to have such a large and unusual family.

Harry did not reciprocate with his own stories nearly as often as he probably should have. He did tell Carlisle what he could - about his parents dying, though he left out any mention of Voldemort, and what it had been like growing up with his relatives. He talked at some length about school, but it was all very academic. He did not wish to risk Carlisle discovering what Harry truly was. In moments of personal honesty, he understood that he was coming to like and respect Carlisle and that it was wrong and potentially harmful to build any sort of relationship with him on such dishonest terms, but he wasn't sure he could bear to lose the other vampire's friendship for anyone's sake.

However, despite the fact that Harry had become so instantly fond of Carlisle, he did not feel any interest for the other family members until Carlisle started speaking about them. One evening, he told Harry at length about how he had started his family by turning Edward, a young patient on his deathbed. He had been unsure for a long time, many years even, whether he'd made the right decision in doing so; certainly, Edward's life was already as good as lost, but that didn't make it Carlisle's to take. Nevertheless, he'd done it, and had then turned Rosalie and Emmett soon after. By the time Alice and Jasper had joined them, Carlisle had managed to stop thinking about whether turning a dying human was evil and just appreciated that he had a family with which to share his life.

More recently, of course, Edward had found Bella, and the family had gained Renesmee and Jacob in the process as well. Harry was a bit surprised when Carlisle spoke so strongly of Jacob as being one of them, but even if the werewolf was a natural enemy of the vampire, it didn't seem to matter. Harry supposed that Jacob wasn't a typical wolf; the Cullens certainly weren't typical vampires, and Carlisle did mentioned that they'd come together to fight a mutual foe. Although Harry tried asking what Carlisle meant by that, the blonde refused to elaborate. He insisted that the story was not his to tell; if Harry wished to know the details, he should ask Edward and Bella, and the same went for information on any of his children.

So, even though Harry knew he was allowing Carlisle to manipulate him by doing so, he found himself listening for Carlisle's departure one morning and, when the roar of the engine was out of earshot, venturing out of his room and down the stairs to where the Cullen "children" spent most of their time while they passed the rest of the summer holidays.

At the bottom of the stairs, Harry turned right into the living room. Although he'd been moving as quietly as possible, four heads turned to look at him when he appeared in the doorway. Harry stopped and surveyed the scene for a minute. The television was on, but no one really seemed to be watching it. Emmett and Jasper sat in one corner playing a game of chess while Edward and Bella simply lounged on the couch. No one else was to be seen.

They all remained frozen for a very long moment. Harry really wasn't sure what he should say or do. He hadn't realized it - being with Carlisle was easy, more than it should have been for Harry - but he'd grown accustomed to solitude. He'd kept even muggle contact to a bare minimum, knowing that the wizards searching for him wouldn't be above questioning or even killing people for information about him. Harry was out of practice when it came to meeting new people, not that he'd ever been _good_ at it, and especially people who knew nothing of him or his reputation.

In the end, it was Bella who broke the ice, sitting up and greeting him with a simple, "Hello, Harry," and a soft, hopeful smile.

This seemed to propel the others into action. He received a similar greeting from Edward, albeit accompanied by a penetrating stare. Jasper looked contemplative as he nodded his head, and Emmett became his usual self with a booming voice and large grin. Harry knew him best, besides Carlisle of course, because he'd insisted upon coming along on future hunting trips. Of course, he'd been consequently disappointed by the fact that Harry didn't have any desire to wrestle with his meals before he ate them. Apparently, he made a quicker kill than Edward.

"Trust me, when you're alive as long as we've been, you have to find _some_ ways to entertain yourself," the dark-haired vampire had explained with a shrug.

"So, Harry," Bella interrupted his thoughts. "Do you need anything?"

Harry looked away from her and shrugged. "Not really. I just came down to … you know …"

Bella tilted her head. "Why don't you sit down?" She indicated the chair closest to the couch where she and Edward sat. "Carlisle told us you're a wizard," she commented as Harry lowered himself into the seat.

"Yes," Harry agreed. All eyes were watching him intently. Jasper and Emmett seemed to have all but given up on their chess game.

"He wouldn't tell us anything else, though," Bella continued. "He said you'd tell us when and if you wanted us to know. Said you're very private."

"Carlisle seems to be a very honorable person," Harry replied. "He told me the same thing about each of you. That I'd have to directly ask you about anything I wanted to know."

"So that's why you've decided to join us?" Curiosity got the better of you?" Jasper quirked an amused smile.

Harry might have been offended by the question, but Jasper's tone was kind and in reality he was exactly right. Harry always had been curious, too curious for his own good as the saying went. Voldemort might have returned sooner and been even more invincible if he hadn't searched into the Philosopher's Stone. And Ginny might well have _died_ had he and Ron not stupidly followed the spiders into the Forbidden Forest. Not that she hadn't died eventually …

He had to force himself away from that depressing line of thought. "Carlisle … apparently wants me to stay. I figure I should get to know the rest of you as well."

"And let us get to know you?" Edward prompted.

Harry looked to him with a raised eyebrow. The bronze-haired vampire stared back, challenging him. Harry simply nodded.

"Ok, then perhaps you'd like to let me know why I can't read your thoughts," Edward continued.

"Edward!" Bella exclaimed. Harry thought she looked embarrassed by her partner's behavior, but he couldn't tell for sure. "Don't be rude to him!" She turned to Harry. "He's always rude to people he doesn't know. You should have seen how he treated me when we first met!"

"Hey, that wasn't my fault!" Edward interrupted. "It would have been a sight more rude if I'd sucked you dry and killed everyone else in that classroom to cover my tracks."

Bella gave him an indulgent smile. "Whatever you say, Edward. Seriously, though, you don't know if _he_ knows. I know you get cranky when you don't know things, but you could at least _try_ to be polite about it."

Edward scowled at her, but it was half-hearted. "Fine. Harry," he chimed out in a sickly sweet voice. "Do you think we could discuss the fact that I can't read your thoughts? Carlisle hinted that you might know something about it."

"I might," Harry replied. "But I'm curious as to why you'd like to know so badly." Edward looked as though he wasn't going to answer. "If I'm going to tell you, then you could at least tell _me_ why you want to know," Harry reasoned.

Edward sighed. "I told you before, I'm not used to this, not knowing what someone is thinking," he said tightly. "Before you, Bella was the only one."

"Carlisle didn't know that wizards existed, so I'm going to assume you've never met one before either," Harry said.

"So, it's because you're a wizard? I won't be able to read any wizards' minds?" Edward asked, sounding disturbed by the idea.

"Er … no," Harry replied. "That is, you'd be able to read most. It's a … learned skill. It took me a long time to master it."

"If it took you so long, why did you bother to finish learning it?" Emmett asked. Harry looked back to the corner of the room, nearly having forgotten he was there during the exchange with Edward.

Jasper was studying the chess board intently. "Because not everyone quits things they start," he said absently, still looking at the game. "Like, for example, chess."

"Because it's the only way to stop someone from reading my mind if they try," Harry corrected, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up in a smile at Jasper's comment. "Would you want someone being able to read _your_ mind?"

Emmett was now also focused on the game board - it was his move - but he glanced over at Harry and smirked. "Comes with the territory, living with _that_ one," he said, nodding in Edward's direction before turned back to the game and moving his hand to a piece Harry recognized as a rook.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Edward piped up.

Harry, who'd been looking back at Jasper and Emmett, startled. He thought for a moment that Edward was speaking to him before he realized that he was talking to Emmett about the move he was going to make.

"That's exactly what Jasper wants you to do. He'll win quite quickly," Edward added.

"Edward!" Jasper exclaimed.

Edward ignored his brother's indignation and turned back to Harry. "So, theoretically, you could stop doing whatever it is that prevents me from reading your mind?"

Harry frowned at this. "Well, yes. But don't think I'm _going_ to."

"You know, I'd be a lot less suspicious of you if you'd let me. So I know you're not hiding anything." Edward told him.

Harry very nearly stated the obvious - that perhaps he _was_ hiding something - but it was far too truthful for him to say it. "Or you could just do like the rest of your siblings and give me a chance before you decide I'm evil or whatever it is you're thinking. Carlisle seems to trust me well enough right now."

"Well Carlisle isn't exactly objective right now," Edward mumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Bella interrupted. "Can't we change the subject? We don't need the two of you getting into a wrestling match in the house."

"But that would be entertaining!" Emmett protested. He was still trying to figure out another move in chess, but apparently couldn't find any to his liking.

"No, it wouldn't," Bella insisted.

"Ok, then, how about a game of chess, Harry?" Emmett asked.

"Maybe you should think about finishing this one first," Jasper cut in.

Emmett shrugged one shoulder lazily. "You know you've won this one, Jazz. It doesn't matter what move I make next."

"That doesn't mean I don't want the pleasure of crushing your sorry ass," Jasper replied, smirking.

"I'm going to refuse either way," Harry told them. "I'm rubbish at chess."

"Have you played much?" Jasper asked, apparently having resigned himself to the fact that Emmett had lost interest.

"A bit when I was younger. One of my friends loved chess, but I was never enough of a challenge for him."

It was true. Even if Harry'd had the time or desire to really learn chess, he didn't think he'd have ever been very good at it. He didn't have the mind for strategy that Ron had. He could follow a plan if someone else laid it out for him, but he was better at reacting to the unexpected. His strength lay in listening to his instincts and allowing them to lead him to the answers he was seeking, trusting in his own abilities to stay alive while doing so.

"I could teach you a bit if you'd like," Jasper offered.

"Jasper's theoretically the best player among us," Emmett explained. "Only he hasn't got a chance against Edward or Alice, the cheats."

"It's not cheating if I can't _help_ hearing what he's thinking," Edward defended.

"You might actually have a chance against him, Harry. If you let me teach you," Jasper told him.

Harry just gave a shrug. "My friends in school couldn't read my mind and they still trounced me," he pointed out. "But perhaps later."

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you," Bella said, changing the subject, "but I'd love to hear more about being a wizard. You must have some amazing stories!"

_Oh, if she only knew_, Harry thought, staring at her for a very long moment. "Carlisle really hasn't told you anything, has he?"

"Nothing," she lamented.

Harry opened his mouth to speak again but clamped it shut as his mind made a connection it had not previously made; he felt rather stupid it had taken him this long, but he wasn't exactly in his element here.

"Wait just a moment," he said, turning his gaze to Edward. "Carlisle told me my first night here that you could read minds and that you'd probably know anything I told him. So why _don't_ you know any of this? Or are all of you just playing with me?"

"Harry, of _course_ we're not …" Bella began, but Harry cut her off with a sharp look.

"Edward?" he questioned.

The bronze-haired vampire scowled. Although he looked younger than Harry, he was quite a bit older and it was clear that he expected to be in control of the conversation. He didn't like it that Harry had gained the upper hand.

"I haven't, well, I can't necessarily see _everything_ when it comes to Carlisle," he admitted sourly. "Or anyone, I suppose, but especially Carlisle. I can only see what someone is thinking at that exact moment, not what they've thought or heard in the past. So technically all Carlisle has to do is avoid thinking of you, or at least things you've told him, when he's around me."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "And you're suspicious because you think _I'm_ hiding things? Any of your family could be hiding things from you," he pointed out.

"Not really," Edward protested. "It's pretty easy for me to make people think what I want them to think. All I have to do is bring the subject up. But Carlisle learned that trick early on and he's gotten really good at avoiding it. He has a very strong mind, I suppose. Plus, I barely see him lately. When he's not at the hospital, he's spending time with you."

Harry frowned at Edward's last words as he realized that Carlisle really had been spending nearly all of his time outside of work with Harry. The others weren't actually his children, of course, and they didn't really need a parent to take care of them, but that didn't mean they weren't close to Carlisle and didn't miss his presence when he stayed with Harry all evening. He was so lost in his own guilt that he missed the annoyed look Bella sent in Edward's direction.

"Carlisle's just trying to get to know him, Edward," the girl spoke evenly. "You didn't see much of your family when we first met, or don't you remember that? Besides, I imagine that Harry's got some tales to rival Carlisle's." She looked over at Harry for confirmation.

He tried not to squirm. "It's not really as interesting as you'd think," he tried.

"Oh, come on," Bella urged.

"Honestly," Harry defended. "I don't think I ever stayed awake through an entire History of Magic class."

"Wait, History of what?" Emmett interrupted. "You went to a school that taught magic?"

"Oh." Harry had told Carlisle, but of course the others wouldn't know. Besides which, he wasn't used to speaking about his magic with people who didn't already know about it. Truthfully, he wasn't used to speaking about it at all anymore. "Well, yes."

"That's pretty awesome," Emmett observed.

"It was _school_," Harry emphasized. "We had to take History of Magic and it was taught by a ghost-"

"Ghosts are _real_? No way!" Emmett gazed at Harry with wide eyes as though waiting for him to say he'd only been joking. "Come on, you can't be serious."

Harry stared at him, as did everyone else for a silent moment before Jasper spoke. "Ok, since Rose isn't here right now, I'll have to fill in for her." At that, he reached across the table that held their chess board and smacked Emmett over the head. "You're a vampire, and you know that werewolves and wizards exist, but you're shocked that ghosts are real? Moron."

Emmett paused, then nodded. "That was a pretty good impersonation, Jazzy." He leaned over towards the blonde. "You know what else Rose likes to do when she's annoyed with me?" he asked suggestively.

Jasper swallowed heavily. "I'd hit you again, but I'm afraid you'd enjoy it a bit too much."

Harry looked over at Edward and Bella. "Are they always like this?" he asked.

"They think it's amusing," Bella replied with a nod.

Harry smiled sadly. "They remind me of …"

"Of what?" Bella asked.

"Nothing. Just some people I knew in school," he replied, thinking of his roommates in Gryffindor tower.

"Ah, yes, school," Edward said. "You were going to tell us about it."

"You were going to tell us about _magic_," Jasper corrected.

"Forget that," Emmett said. "I want to _see_ some magic. What do you say, Harry?"

Harry considered this. He hadn't been planning to show them any magic, seeing as he had purposely not used it since he'd been turned and he didn't know how it was going to react. But it wasn't like they didn't already know about it, didn't know he could do it. So what would it hurt? Why did he have the feeling that he shouldn't?

"What do you want to see?" he asked finally.

"Well, seeing you smash that mirror was pretty cool, but maybe something less destructive this time," Emmett instructed.

"Er, yeah, the mirror thing was an accident, anyway," Harry told him.

"Magic can happen accidentally?"

Emmett vaguely reminded Harry of himself when he was eleven and just discovering magic. "Not usually," he answered. "Mostly in children, before they've learned to channel their magic through a wand, and when they're really emotional about something. Like upset, or angry, or in danger."

"You must have been pretty emotional when you realized what you were," Bella said understandingly.

Harry looked at her to acknowledge the truth of her statement, but he couldn't ignore the thoughts that were rushing forward in his head, thoughts about that afternoon and the mirror shattering so suddenly. He tried to convince himself that he'd been angry and despairing, finding himself turned into a dark creature when he'd been expecting peace and eternity with his loved ones … but it wasn't true. Staring at his reflection, he'd felt nothing but cold, through and through. It didn't make sense.

Instead of trying to placate the nagging voice in the back of his mind, Harry turned to Emmett. "I can levitate objects," he said. "D'you want to see that?"

"Hell, yes," Emmett agreed.

And Harry smiled at the other vampire and was about to do so when Edward spoke. "Wait." His voice was commanding; he was clearly still suspicious of their new companion.

"What?" Harry asked impatiently.

"You said something about wands," Edward said.

Harry tried not to frown. "Yes."

"So if wizards use wands to do magic, then how are you going to show us anything without one? You don't seem particularly emotional right now."

Harry tried to figure out how to explain it without giving away the fact that he was one of the most, if not _the_ most powerful wizard in existence. "Er, well, you're right in a way. Most witches and wizards can't do any magic without a wand. But a few of us can do a little. Easy spells, like floating an object. It doesn't take a lot of power."

"But if you don't need a wand at all, then you must be pretty powerful, right? Dangerous even?"

Harry blanched and didn't answer, but he didn't have to. Bella did it for him.

"Ok, Edward, _enough_ already. We know you don't trust him yet, and that you're just trying to protect us, but seriously, enough. You may not be used to judging people without being able to hear their thoughts, but the rest of us are, and right now we're not overly concerned that Harry is here to destroy us all or whatever's going through your mind. So just shut up and let yourself get to know him, all right?"

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Jasper and Emmett began to laugh, ignoring Edward's glare.

"Have I mentioned how much I love your wife, Ed?" Emmett asked.

Edward growled at his larger brother, which only made Emmett laugh harder. Bella grinned apologetically at her husband and reached up to run a hand through his hair. Harry watched it all with a mixture of amusement and sadness. They may not have been a traditional family, but they were a family nonetheless, like the one Harry had once imagined he'd have, the one he might have had after the war if things hadn't gone so terribly wrong.

"Do you want to see me do something or not?" he finally asked the group.

"Yes!" Emmett answered.

"We do want to see," Jasper added, focusing his attention back on Harry.

"All right then," Harry agreed, turning towards the coffee table as his mind focused on levitating the book that sat upon it.

But as soon as his eyes landed on it, before he could even raise his hand or incant the spell, the book was floating in the air above them. The Cullens were so mesmerized by the sight, so focused that they didn't realize Harry was more shocked than they were.

This was impossible! He had not said the spell, had not begun to direct his magic, had not even _called_ upon his magic, and yet it was obvious, plain as day, that the spell had been cast. He turned his mind inward, searching for the magic that ran so freely through his body, and there it was, a nearly infinitesimal amount leaking out to hold the book aloft. But how … ?

"Seriously … amazing! Harry, that is _so_ …" Emmett finally found words, but broke off as he faced Harry and saw the look on the other vampire's face, a mixture of awe and fear. "Harry?"

"Are you all right?" Jasper asked, turning to see what had caught his brother's attention.

"No. I'm not." Harry spoke more to himself than the others, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "That's not supposed to happen. It's not supposed to be like this."

"What do you mean?" Bella asked. "You said you were going to levitate the book, and …"

Harry shook his head. "No. You can't understand," he said, so quietly that no human would have been able to hear him.

Then, before anyone else could say anything, he turned and fled, banging out the front door and running into the woods that surrounded the house on three sides. With all the hunting he'd been doing, Harry had grown more familiar with the expanse of wilderness that extended from the Cullens' home, but in his haste and confusion he paid no attention to where he was going and soon stopped without an idea as to where he might be.

That was probably a good thing, though. Now that he'd used his magic again, intentionally or not, he could feel it growing restless inside him, demanding to be released. Harry hated this feeling, when his power made him feel nauseated and light-headed, somehow inherently wrong. It had begun not long after he'd defeated Voldemort; it always occurred when he wasn't providing an outlet for his magic, but never had it been so strong before. He was frightened as to what it might do.

Testingly, he accessed it and released a small, aimless burst. A strong wing whipped through the trees, ripping up a sapling and causing a flurry of leaves to rain down upon him. The pressure grew even greater; his skin felt as though it might explode. He let out more magic, and then more - never too much at once, for fear that he might have grown powerful enough to allow the Ministry to track him by his signature alone - ripping up whole trees, exploding a large rock, until finally the energy dissipated into the atmosphere.

When Harry was able to think again, he realized how stupid he'd been, how dangerous it had been to release his magic like so and to keep it locked up inside for so long in the first place. He had been irresponsible doing so, and perhaps at one time it wouldn't have mattered - he wouldn't have cared if the Ministry found him, or if his magic grew so wild and uncontrollable that it swallowed him whole - but it all mattered now.

Now, Harry wasn't the only one who'd be hurt if his magic exploded; and if the Ministry found him, if they came, Harry could simply apparate away. The Cullens would be the ones left behind to deal with the Aurors. And they would be persecuted for being dark creatures, Harry knew, no matter that they only fed on animals, that as far as he could see, they were better and kinder than anyone left in that world he still felt he should save. He couldn't allow himself to hurt them, not after they'd been so kind to him. He knew what he had to do now. He had to leave.

It would be better this way. Alone here in the wood, the younger Cullens keeping their distance, Harry could calm down a bit and then apparate away. He would come up with a plan, he'd find a way back into the resistance, and he'd avoid humans as much as possible. Most importantly, he would be gone from here long before Carlisle arrived home from work and tried to tell him that he didn't have to leave, that he could stay, that the Cullens _wanted_ him to stay. Harry couldn't listen to those words; he knew he would be too tempted to believe them.

The only problem was … the problem was that he didn't _want_ to leave, and he could admit that to himself. He had been alone for so long. Physically, he'd found occasional companionship, but mentally and emotionally he had been completely isolated. Then he'd been turned and brought here, and he'd thought perhaps everything could change. He was a vampire now, and the Cullens were vampires; perhaps he didn't have to stay away from them, didn't have to worry about being a danger to them. That had been his mistake.

He _was_ a danger to them. When had it ever been otherwise in his life? He had been a danger to his parents, the reason they'd died. He'd been a danger to the Dursleys; he could admit that now, for he was the reason they'd been searched out and killed. He'd been a danger to his friends and to every single student who had been in Hogwarts at the same time as Harry. Any one of them could have been Cedric Diggory, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and only because Harry was selfish enough to want the protection that Hogwarts and Dumbledore had offered.

That was part of the reason he'd stayed isolated for so long in the first place. Sure, he basically had no loved ones left to be with, and certainly acting in the resistance had made it impossible to form any sort of bond with anyone as he had to move around so much and skirt the edges of both wizarding and muggle society. But in the end, Harry knew he'd stayed so isolated because he couldn't handle putting anyone else in danger; he couldn't handle being responsible for the deaths of those he cared for.

He'd almost ruined it all. He hadn't asked to be turned into this, hadn't asked the Cullens to include him in their lives, but he was the one who had stayed. He had followed Carlisle back to his home that morning after his first hunt, had stayed in the spare bedroom and exchanged stories and memories with the blond vampire for hours. He hadn't left because he'd finally felt a connection to someone - he could admit that much - and he hadn't wanted to give it up. But it had been foolish to think he could still possess any sort of normality, to think that he wasn't putting the Cullens in danger just because they were vampires.

Now that he knew his mistake, though, he could fix it. Couldn't he? No wizards had sensed him here yet; if they had they would have been swarming the place. So if he left now, maybe none would ever know he'd been here, would ever find the Cullens. They'd live here, in peace, for a few years, and then they'd move on as they always did, according to Carlisle.

Yet for all his resolve to leave, Harry was still here, wasn't he? He could have apparated already, could be apparating right now. He could go back to the life he'd been living for the past ten years. There would be new challenges - he'd have to avoid humans as much as possible, at least at first - but it would actually be easier. He would not have to find shelter from the weather or obtain human food. He could move more quickly and quietly than ever before and he had strength no wizard would ever know, not even with the use of potions or charms. So why wasn't he already gone?

A dry, choked sob escaped from him, unexpected and chilling in its intensity. Merlin, despite everything he knew, despite all of his justifications for doing so, Harry just didn't want to leave. He wanted to have a family, to see if the Cullens could be that family. His emotions were torrid and his magic responded to them, bubbling up to the surface once again.

Blinking against what would have been tears, Harry released his magic again, not thinking about what it might do or what form it might take, only needing to get the excess out of him. What he saw was more than surprising: a ball of fire shot away from him and collided with a tree. It hit and, with a violent crack, slowly began flaming. Harry stood staring at it in wonder for a long moment before putting out the fire.

Where had _that_ come from? In all of his years of using magic, Harry had never performed a spell quite like that; funny he should now, when fire was one of the only things left that could destroy him.

Swallowing back a bit of venom that had pooled in his mouth, Harry raised a hand experimentally. Before he had even called upon his magic, another fire ball flew out of his hand. He watched it smash into the same tree with an unexpected and disturbingly deep feeling of satisfaction. Whatever he was doing seemed to calm his magic. Squeezing his eyes shut, ignoring the sight of the forest around him and the sounds, the light breeze and the crackling of the fire he'd not yet put out, Harry let his magic rise and released fire all around him, reveling in the feeling of it.

He was so caught up in his actions that he didn't even hear the approaching footsteps running in his direction. He should have realized that the Cullens he'd left behind were looking for him, and that they'd find him easily with the bloody racket he was making. But he didn't; he did not stop wielding his magic until he heard Bella's voice call his name. His body stiffened as one last fireball escaped his control and slammed into a tree just as Edward appeared next to it.

He could only watch at the bronze-haired vampire leapt away from the tree in shock. "Fuck! What they hell are you doing, trying to kill me?" Edward yelled angrily, looking back at the now burning tree and then around at all of those in a similar state.

Harry glowered at him. "What the bloody hell did you think _you_ were doing?" he replied. "Coming so close to me like that when I was using magic?"

He let out a little huff and tried to calm down, sweeping a hand through the air to put out all of the fires.

"Well sorry for wondering if you were all right. You made a book rise in the air and then ran out like you'd just murdered someone," Edward informed him testily.

"Yeah, and by the time you found me you couldn't possibly have realized that I wasn't just levitating books anymore. _You're_ the one who keeps accusing me of being so dangerous," Harry shot back.

"All right, enough!" Bella interrupted with a bored tone that made Harry wonder if she was always the peacekeeper in the family.

He shot a look over at Edward, who had also grown silent. The other vampire looked properly chastised, and Harry couldn't help but smirk a little bit.

"That was directed at both of you," Bella informed him, seeing Harry's smugness. She waited until his eyes met hers. "I'm sorry, but we _don't_ understand. We need you to tell us."

Her eyes were expressive, imploring him to understand their situation since they couldn't seem to understand his. Harry felt his body begin to relax - as much as he supposed a vampire could - and his anger deflate, leading way to an odd heaviness. Before saying anything, he lowered himself to the ground as though this would cure his weariness, sitting in a pile of decaying leaves.

"I don't understand it myself," he said. "I mean, my magic has always been different, but it's never worked like this. Normally, most wizards need a wand, though I haven't really _needed_ one for quite awhile. And even without one you have to say or think a spell to make it work. But I didn't think a spell. I didn't even will the book to lift. I just thought, 'all right, I'm going to levitate this book now,' and suddenly it was floating in midair."

Bella was listening to him carefully, as was Edward. Jasper had also emerged from the shelter of the surrounding trees and had clearly heard everything he'd said. But none of them _understood_; and how could they? They weren't wizards themselves, they didn't know anything about magic, and they hadn't had Hermione as a best friend. Harry would have understood far less about his own magic and the nature of magic in general if it hadn't been for her.

Bella broke the silence that had fallen over his thoughts. "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway, whether we understand, does it? It's obviously upset you and we can't have that."

"But it does matter," Harry insisted. "I just … magic is already unpredictable, and how do I know that just thinking something won't make it happen? It's …" he paused and looked over at Edward. "Dangerous. It _is_ dangerous. And me staying here puts all of you in danger because of that."

They all seemed to catch on to what he was saying.

"Harry, you _can't_ leave!" Bella exclaimed.

Edward cast her a sidelong glance, eyes narrowed, as if to say, _why can't he leave, if he wants to_?

Bella glared at him and even let out a vague growl. "Edward, Harry is _not_ leaving," she said in such a threatening tone that Harry wondered if he was missing something.

"She's right, Ed," Jasper agreed. He turned to Harry. "We're not letting you leave."

"I'll pin you to the ground if I have to," Bella told him. "Jasper'll help me. Together we should be able to take on a newborn's strength. And Edward here will just have to deal with it."

"No!" Harry said quickly. "You don't have to pin me anywhere. And anyways, it wouldn't matter. I could just apparate away."

"Apparate?" Bella asked.

"Basically it means I can disappear from one spot and reappear in another."

"You can actually do that?" Edward cut in.

"Yes," Harry replied. "I guess Carlisle didn't tell you, but that's how I ended up in the woods where you found me. He said you were all wondering how I got there, seemingly out of nowhere. I apparated there."

Bella looked thoughtful. "What happened before you apparated there? How _did_ you get so badly injured?"

Harry pursed his lips and found himself wrapping his arms around his knees as he pulled them into his chest, a gesture he'd adopted as a young boy living in a cupboard and never fully outgrown.

"I was in an accident," he said. "But I don't want to talk about that."

"Well, why don't you talk about something else, then?" Bella prompted. "You were going to tell us about your school, before Emmett asked you to show us some magic."

Harry didn't say anything right away, aware that he was being manipulated into staying where he was. The girl was almost as good as Carlisle as distracting him from his purposes. But during the eerie silence that ensued, none of the vampires needing to move an inch or take a breath, he knew that he didn't really want to leave, anyway, and so he started speaking again.

"Well, I didn't even know about magic until these strange letters started coming in the post …"

* * *

Chapter End.

Hope you guys liked it. If you leave me a review to let me know, it will be appreciated, though as I've said with 'Falling Through,' I'm horrible about reviewing, so I won't hold it against you if you don't!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! (And thanks to those who had to reread the whole thing as it had been so long since I updated.) I now give you chapter seven; it's a short chapter, not much longer than the first one, so I do apologize for that, but I definitely knew exactly where I wanted to stop it. After this, we'll be really getting into the meat of the story, stuff I'm excited about writing, so I hope that'll motivate me to do more of it, right?

Anyways, as usual, standard disclaimers apply. I don't own any of it and I'm not making a profit. If only I could.

* * *

_To The Night, Chapter Seven_

It had been a long day. Lately, it seemed that every day was a long day, the hours until he could leave stretching out into eternity. Until now, Carlisle had lived for his job and the time that flew past while he worked. He had happily toiled away during those hours that other doctors preferred to spend sleeping or with spouses or loved ones. Especially since the addition of Bella - and Renesmee and Jacob - to the family, Carlisle had found himself even more conspicuously alone. Even his "granddaughter" had a mate! He had thrown himself into his occupation with such single-minded intensity that he'd begun to deeply suspect he would never have a mate of his own.

Until Harry. Now, he counted the minutes before he could race home and see the dark-haired vampire. He'd thought, at first, that it was just a passing fad, but Harry had been with them for nearly a month and Carlisle was no less enthusiastic about getting home now than he'd been his first day on the job. He could only wish that Harry seemed as excited to see him, but his mate was hardly more animated than he'd been when Carlisle first spoke to him. Nevertheless, there was a strong connection between the two, and this made Carlisle suspect that Harry wasn't telling him everything. It wasn't that Carlisle didn't trust him; he did, for reasons he couldn't explain even to himself. Yet Harry had told him he'd wanted to die the night Carlisle changed him, and Carlisle was afraid that hadn't changed at all in the past weeks.

If only Carlisle knew how to help him. But even if he had chosen to focus his practice on psychiatry instead of surgery - it probably _would_ have been a smarter move for a vampire, but far less interesting to him - he didn't think he'd be any better off. He was too close to the situation. Just as surgeons weren't supposed to treat members of their own family, not that it was an issue with any of _his_ children, he was fairly certain he couldn't do anything for Harry besides what any normal man would do for his mate. That, then, was the problem. He had only just met Harry; certainly he didn't know him well on any conscious level, but unconsciously, emotionally, Carlisle felt he had known Harry for his entire existence.

This was how he knew upon arriving home, before he'd even stepped out of his car, that something was wrong. He could tell by the scents that lingered in the car that Harry wasn't in the house, but there was someone who should know where he _was_. Alice was lounging on the couch in the living room, waiting for him. The television was on but she was clearly not paying attention to it, for she turned to Carlisle with a distant look in her eyes as he entered.

"Alice," Carlisle said, letting out a breath. She looked up at him, eyes focusing on him rather than some distant picture. "What's going on?"

"I knew you'd be home soon, Carlisle." Alice said, then paused for a moment. A smile twitched at her lips before turning to a frown. "Harry came downstairs today. To get to know the rest of us a bit. Nessie and I had gone out, and Rose and Jake were in the garage. Edward, Bella, Jazz and Emmett were here. They were all talking; Edward wanted to know why he couldn't read Harry's thoughts. And then they were speaking about magic, and …"

"And what?" Carlisle asked urgently.

"I don't know," she replied, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Carlisle was momentarily silenced. He could only stare at her, his mind moving so quickly he couldn't keep up with it. "What do you mean you don't know?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know. Nessie and I were just heading home and suddenly my vision cut off. Just like it did with the mirror when Harry first woke. By the time we got home Emmett was explaining to Rose and Jake. Apparently Harry showed them some magic and got really freaked out, ran out of the house.

"He's in the woods now," she added. "With Eddie and Bells and Jasper. He's just talking to them, I didn't really see about what. They're about a mile and a half in, northwest. It shouldn't be too difficult to find them. I can already see you arriving."

Carlisle nodded. He was confused by this turn of events; happy that Harry had come out of the room for something other than hunting, happy that he'd been trying to become acquainted with the family, but confused nonetheless. He couldn't quite figure his mate out. There was something about him that just didn't add up to Carlisle; his instincts were telling him something was off. He tried to ignore the feeling.

He couldn't ignore the feeling, however, that he needed to go into the woods and find Harry as soon as possible. He would have left without a second thought had it not been for the look on Alice's face, a lost, helpless look that he didn't think he'd ever seen on her before.

"What is it?" he asked. "Why aren't you out there with them?"

Alice blinked and forced a smile upon her face, but Carlisle could see it wasn't genuine. "I just don't think Harry likes me very much," she said.

Carlisle cocked his head. "What? Why would you think that? You haven't even spoken to him since he first arrived."

Alice just shook her head. "It doesn't matter right now. You go. There'll be time to talk later. There'll be time to make him like me."

Carlisle studied her closely for one last, long minute and then turned and rushed out of the house and into the woods.

Alice was right that it wasn't difficult to find them. Carlisle caught Harry's scent as soon as he'd entered the forest, and followed it quickly. Five minutes later, he stopped. Harry was sitting, leaning against a tree with his legs stretched out in front of him, looking up at Carlisle. Across from him sat Edward, Bella, and Jasper, just as Alice had said, also looking at him; no doubt they'd all heard him coming.

"Carlisle," Harry said, his gaze intense. "Hallo."

Carlisle's face broke into a grin, his body relaxing as he set eyes upon his mate. God, but Harry was exquisite, wasn't he?

Edward coughed then, interrupting Carlisle's thoughts. Jasper reached out and smacked him.

"We'll just, ah … be going now," he offered, and pulled Edward to his feet while Bella stood simultaneously.

Harry watched them go, and Carlisle watched as Harry smiled crookedly. Once the sound of the footsteps had faded into a distant patter, Harry looked back over at him and his smile faded. Carlisle resisted sighing and instead approached Harry, charred leaves and branches crunching beneath his feet. He realized that he was still wearing his good shoes from work and that they were half-ruined by now, but didn't care. Instead, he plopped down on the ground just far enough from Harry that hopefully he wouldn't be scared off.

"You came out today," he commented then, not knowing how else to begin.

Harry made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but Carlisle wasn't entirely sure. "If that's how you want to look at it," he said. "You said you wanted me to get to know the rest of your family."

"And so I do," Carlisle agreed.

"And instead I did all this," Harry concluded, waving his hand in a sweeping motion.

Carlisle took in the destruction around them. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed it, but simply that it hadn't seemed important compared to seeing Harry. Now, though, he was amazed by the sheer number of burnt, broken trees. It looked like a secluded hurricane had torn through this little patch of woods. "You did all this?" he asked.

"My magic." Harry frowned and shook his head.

Carlisle understood; he may not have known Harry for very long yet, but he already knew that Harry was very private. He had to give him time to speak about personal matters. With that thought in mind, he decided to change the subject.

"You looked like you were having a good conversation when I arrived," he commented.

"We were, I suppose. I was telling them a bit about Hogwarts. Stuff you've already heard." Harry paused. "Edward doesn't trust me very much."

"Edward just doesn't like that he can't hear your thoughts," Carlisle told him.

"Yes, I know that. He wants me to let him, but I refused. I can't …" Harry looked up him guiltily.

"You don't have to do anything like that," Carlisle said. "Edward will get over it. He'll get to know you and he'll trust you then."

"If you say so," Harry said, but he sounded unsure.

Carlisle frowned a little bit. "I've been thinking about it," he admitted. "And the thing about Edward is that, well, I think it's difficult for him that I haven't been … available lately."

Harry looked up at him in interest.

"Edward and I were both … _alone_ … for a long time. He was the first one I turned, and it was just the two of us until Rose. She found Emmett in only a few years, and Alice and Jasper were already together when they joined us, so in a way it was still just me and Edward. We had each other; we had other things as well. I have medicine, Edward has his music. But neither of us had mates.

"When it came down to it, we had time for each other. When the others wanted to be alone together, when normal people would need to be sleeping, we had each other. I'll admit that it wasn't easy for me when Edward met Bella. He was always off with her, watching her, protecting her. But I was happy he'd found someone, and someone as pleasant and kind as Bella.

"I suppose … well, it was an adjustment for me, realizing that Edward wasn't just mine anymore, but I learned to see it that way because Bella was right there. I never had anyone, though, so even when Edward stopped needing me in that way, he didn't stop thinking of me like that. Now that I have -"

Carlisle broke off then, making an odd, choking sound in the back of his throat. "Well …"

He could feels Harry's eyes on him, watching, thinking, considering. His face held a plethora of emotions, each one winning out for but a few moments before another became dominant: fear, disbelief, shock, something akin to happiness (though Carlisle wasn't sure if he was simply imagining this one out of pure desire), before settling back into it's usual state. Denial. Carlisle wondered how long it would take the other man to realize what these feelings between them were. He wondered if they were as overpowering and consuming for Harry as they were for him.

"Well." Harry echoed Carlisle, breaking the tense silence. "I suppose you have been spending all of your free time with me."

"I have been," Carlisle agreed, looking into his mate's eyes. They were almost completely amber now, fading almost as fast as Bella's had. There was but a tinge of red left, ringing the pupil, and Carlisle knew he couldn't have seen it at all without the senses of a vampire.

"You don't _have_ to, you know," Harry replied quietly. "I mean, if Edward needs you around, if … I …"

"Harry. I want to," Carlisle told him. "I turned you and brought you here. I convinced you to stay and now I'm getting to know you. I daresay I, ah, like what I've gotten to know so far. But certainly, if you feel you need more time alone …"

A guilty, pained look flitted across Harry's face, gone before it had graced his features for a moment, but Carlisle knew he had seen it. He felt like Harry had kicked him in the gut.

"Oh," he said. "Oh. You're planning to go."

Harry looked up at him. He seemed unsurprised that Carlisle knew. "Yes."

"You don't have to do that," Carlisle pointed out.

"I think I do," Harry replied. "I was supposed to be gone before you got home, but then Edward and Bella and Jasper came."

"I'm glad they did. I'm glad you stayed with them. If nothing else … if I can't change your mind … then I'm glad to have the opportunity to say good-bye."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him; the gesture was not disdainful, only curious. "What would you say to get me to stay?"

Harry looked despairingly hopeful, gazing up at Carlisle through long eyelashes. "I would say …" Carlisle paused, not wanting to say something that would only make Harry leave more quickly. "I don't understand everything that you've told me, everything you've been through, but I think you deserve some sort of happiness. From what you've told me, you've sacrificed so much since you finished school - what's that, ten years? - and maybe you shouldn't have to sacrifice anymore. Maybe it's someone else's turn."

Though he'd meant to be subtle and cajoling, Carlisle had barely been able to control the words as they flew out of his mouth. But God, he wanted Harry to stay. _Needed_ him to stay.

A bitter laugh escaped Harry's mouth. "That would probably work for most people. For any sane person, but …" Harry's voice became slightly manic. "You don't understand. I can't just leave it like this. It's _my fault_."

Carlisle wasn't really sure how to respond to this. He honestly doubted that this was true. From what Harry had told him, this world of his, the wizarding world, was saturated with corruption; one person could not have inspired such violent hatred and irrational discrimination. Nor could a single individual have prevented it, especially not a young man who had only been finishing school when the current government began its powerful reign. But it didn't really matter whether it was actually true or not, for Harry believed it was. His mate's distraught countenance told Carlisle everything he needed to know.

Watching him, Carlisle was struck with a strong desire to reach out to his companion. He knew it wasn't a good idea; he remembered quite well how Harry had reacted when he'd touched him the first time and was observant enough to notice how Harry avoided being too close to him, angling his body so even their feet wouldn't come into contact when they were repositioning themselves on the bed or their arms wouldn't brush when they were hunting in the woods. But the urge was stronger than any yet, and the way Harry was looking at him, so stricken …

Slowly, he reached out his hand, inching it ever closer to Harry, who tore his gaze away from Carlisle to track its progress. He did not move though - if anything he was even more still than usual with a stiffness that did not suit him - and Carlisle took this as a good sign. He extended his hand farther, steadily paced, and a moment later he came into contact with Harry's own hand, covering it completely.

At first nothing happened, except for an immense feeling of satisfaction on Carlisle's part; then, when Harry didn't pull away, a jolt passed between them, working its way up Carlisle's spine. Surely Harry must have felt it as well, but still he didn't move. He was staring at their hands, as if it was the most intriguing and inexplicable thing he had ever encountered. Maybe it was; maybe he was feeling what Carlisle was feeling at this moment.

"Harry." Carlisle whispered, speaking as though to a wounded child. "Harry, I don't understand why you think it was your fault. But whether it was or not, ask yourself: do they deserve your guilt? None of them have cared enough to try and change."

Harry took his eyes away from their hands, looking up as Carlisle spoke. His amber pupils were bright and clear for just a moment before he released a stunted laugh, bitter and pained. Then they clouded again, and he jumped to his feet, breaking contact with Carlisle. He darted off into the surrounding woods but stopped a split second later, about fifty feet away. He leaned with his hands against a tree, head hanging between his arms. If he had still been human, he would have been gasping for breath, and his heart would be racing in his chest.

It was this reaction that confirmed in Carlisle a suspicion that had been growing in his mind, one he'd been very careful to keep hidden from Edward: there were things Harry wasn't telling him. Significant things. Certainly he couldn't be expected to recount every detail of his life, or even remember them all, after the change. But these things Harry was hiding, whatever they were, must be important; perhaps, as Edward suspected, dangerous. And though Carlisle knew this, understood it even, he didn't care. He still wanted Harry more than he'd ever wanted anything.

He wished, sincerely, that he could tell Harry this, but his mate would not believe him. Not yet. Carlisle needed more time to make Harry see their presently nonexistent relationship for what it was.

Steeling himself, Carlisle rose and straightened and purposefully made his way towards Harry, walking, not running. Though it took but a short time to reach him, every moment that passed was one in which Carlisle feared Harry would simply disappear. But when he stopped, less than an arm's length away, Harry was still there, hands burrowing so viciously into the tree trunk that he had caused pieces of bark to tear away, his face hidden from Carlisle's view.

Carlisle considered the situation for a long moment; trying to reach out to Harry again could be disastrous. His mate could decide to leave and never come back. But on the off chance that it would help, Carlisle could not deny his heart its desires and so he shifted his body, angling it so that he was half facing Harry and half facing the tree, and once again covered Harry's left hand.

Harry did not react, and there was a moment of stillness before Carlisle gently pried Harry's hand from the deformed bark and clasped it between both of his own, gently rubbing it as he brought it towards his chest. Harry's face, which had been turned to the ground, tipped sideways to look at Carlisle. The expression on his face was one Carlisle recognized well, both on his own face and many a time on Edward's: despair.

And though he'd seen it so many times, and been unable to prevent or cure it, Carlisle couldn't bear that look on Harry's face. He moved one of his hands away from Harry's and placed it on his mate's alabaster cheek. Harry was still for a moment, deciding how to react, then, seemingly involuntarily, leaned into the touch.

"Harry, you can't leave," he whispered. "It's not enough."

He knew that Harry could hear the pleading in his voice, but he didn't care at this point. He'd told Roaslie he'd give Harry a choice, but the truth was that he didn't know if he could.

Amber eyes met his, studied them. "I'm sorry, Carlisle. I can't stay."

Carlisle had been dreading those words. He'd thought his heart might shatter upon hearing them, but instead he just felt frozen.

"I have to go right now. But I'll come back when I can," he said softly.

"You'll come back?" Carlisle asked.

"When I can," Harry repeated. "If I can."

"How long?" the blond asked.

"I don't know." Harry said, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. "You'll still be here?"

"We'll be here," Carlisle assured him. "I'll be waiting."

Harry nodded, pausing for a moment before taking a step back from Carlisle and pulling his hand away. Carlisle wanted to say something, but he was out of words entirely, and he knew that nothing he said would convince Harry to stay.

Harry seemed to sense this, seemed to understand how difficult it was for Carlisle to watch him go. He reached his arm back out and brushed a hand down Carlisle's arm, gently squeezing his hand before letting go again. It was a ghost of a touch, and Carlisle closed his eyes in order to savor it, knowing it was the last time he would touch his mate for what might be a good while. Not forever, though; he wouldn't allow himself to believe that.

Then, in a whisper so low even Carlisle had to strain to hear it, Harry spoke. "If you're not, I'll find you."

Carlisle was comforted by those words, and by the knowledge that Harry must feel what he felt, even if still on some unconscious level. He listened for something more, for some indication that perhaps Harry had just experienced his revelation, but no further words were spoken. When Carlisle opened his eyes, Harry was gone.

* * *

So there you have it. Don't hate me! It wouldn't be much of a story if they stayed parted for long, now would it? Reviews are welcomed but not required!


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